


Nothing Left to Lose

by Vakaara



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: A slight dash of VegeRad, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Enemies to Lovers, Eye Gouging, Goku also has some trauma, Goku and ChiChi are divorced offscreen before we start, Injury, M/M, Major character death but it’s temporary, Mind Games, Oozaru, Past Character Death, Saiyans Still Have Tails, Saiyans be just a little bit insane, Sleepy Cuddles, Slight bit of VegeBul mostly offscreen, Slow Burn, Some murder happens, Treachery, and they were rivals, ending will be happy, ends in fluff, or a lot insane, plot-relevant OCs, some self-harm with context that’s not self-hatred, space outlaws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 116,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24945199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakaara/pseuds/Vakaara
Summary: Raditz never went to Earth to get Goku, but Frieza’s Planetary Trade Organization showed up and tried to subjugate Earth. A few years after Bulma has fooled the PTO into thinking Earth is under control, Vegeta and his team need to make an emergency landing on the nearest friendly planet. The first meeting between Vegeta and Goku does not go well, but they may find a common enemy in Frieza.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 543
Kudos: 376





	1. Taking Aim: Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CapsuleCrisis for beta-reading the first chapter!

Space yawned cold outside the thin hull of the ship. Raditz grimaced. Red warning lights flashed around them, the interior of the ship eerily silent. Damage reports scrolled across the main vid screen. 

“We’re landing,” Vegeta growled from beside him, “Zaril, find the nearest PTO planet and get us on the ground.”

“Yessir,” Zaril ducked her green scaled head, clawed fingers tapping rapidly at the ship’s console, pulling up maps. Across the aisle from Raditz, Cala nodded, head frills flat with tension and mouth set in a grim line. 

“Absolutely not,” heads snapped around at Ederik’s dissent from the rear row of seats, and Raditz braced himself as he saw Vegeta’s eyes narrow furiously, “we have been ordered to report to PTO satellite base 506. Changing course is tantamount to desertion.”

“And staying the course is tantamount to suicide,” Cala snapped, “Vegeta’s right, we need to get to ground, fast.”

Raditz was inclined to agree, and not just because following Vegeta was his duty and his default. Their crappy little ship had sustained catastrophic damage from the lucky hit a Kobarian had scored as they departed. Fucking downside of landing team switch outs, how vulnerable a ship in the air was. 

If the ship failed out here, they’d die. He’d rather keep breathing for a little longer. 

“We cannot desert,” Ederik argued, oily tone setting Raditz’s teeth on edge, “Zarbon himself entrusted us with this duty, we must-“

“Shut up,” Vegeta snarled, face twisted in deadly rage, “if you’re that set on dying for your precious Zarbon, I’ll kill you myself. Zaril, find us a fucking landing point and take us down.”

Ederik opened his mouth, blue skin flushed purple with outrage, then seemed to think better of arguing. Well, he had some smarts after all. Raditz wouldn’t have liked Ederik’s odds against Vegeta’s rage, even less so with Cala ready to back him up. Raditz and Nappa would obviously be following Vegeta’s decision without question, Zaril would follow Cala. Five against one, and the one a weakling only good for running his mouth at that. 

Though that weakling had somehow managed to avoid taking any visible damage on Kobari. Raditz’s lip curled as he assessed his own damage, deep bruises and several fractured ribs. Fucking coward Ederik, must have been hiding somewhere while the rest of them did the actual fighting. 

“Here,” Zaril spoke quickly, tense, “Frieza Planet 340, 3,400 petameters away. We can make it.”

Nappa grunted from his seat behind Raditz. “It’s a friendly?”

Zaril paused before answering, first rapidly laying in their course and okaying it. “Database says it was an easy conquer. Natives have no fighting power to speak of. Now serves as an agrarian base for the Empire.”

“Perfect.” Cala nodded, tense set of her frills easing, “we can repair, get a good meal, and then get the hell off that boring mudball.” 

“You checked the atmosphere, right?” Raditz spoke up. Not all of the Frieza planets were suitable for the bundle of species assembled in their little transport ship. 

“Yes, should be a nice refreshing breath for all of us.” Zaril sat back in the pilot’s chair, drawing in a deep breath. “Assuming we can get through the atmosphere and land in one piece with all this damage.”

“The space station where we _should_ be headed would present no problems of atmospheric re-entry.” Ederik was sullen, face drawn into a ridiculous pout. He’d probably nurse a grudge against Vegeta for that earlier comment. Hardly be the first one. 

“Are you blind?” Vegeta snarled, fury not abated in the slightest by their now-locked destination, “our fuel lines are compromised. Making it 90,000 petameters to the space station is unimaginable.” 

Raditz watched Vegeta sidelong, eyeing his damaged armor. The left shoulder piece of the white and gold exterior part completely torn off, the blue under layer ripped and visibly bloodied in multiple places. Vegeta didn’t hold himself like he was injured, but that was pretty meaningless with Vegeta. The sooner they could get to some med facilities and Raditz could convince Vegeta to get checked over, the better. 

“10 minutes to landing,” Zaril spoke up, “be ready to brace yourselves, it’ll be a bumpy ride.”

* * *

“Where the hell are we,” Nappa growled. Vegeta frowned at Nappa’s back. Old bodyguard habits apparently died hard, with Nappa automatically putting himself first through every potentially hostile doorway.

“These are the coordinates that control gave us,” Zaril answered nervously from behind them.

Vegeta shouldered his way past Nappa’s bulk to take in their new accommodations. The planet at least had breathable atmosphere, which was a hell of a lot better than their spaceship would have been in another 10 minutes.

Green foliage. Blue sky. Fluffy white clouds and rolling hills. Vegeta glared at the softness of this planet. Whoever was sent to conquer it had been damned lucky in their assignments. 

No PTO buildings visible. That was odd. Control normally set incoming craft down in ship bays where maintenance was easier. 

Their ship sure as fuck needed maintenance.

“You told them our ship had damage, right?” Raditz had followed them out, stood stretching his arms carelessly over his head. Not a single damn worry in the world.

“Yeah, you heard me tell them,” Zaril shot back. Less deferential when it was just Raditz asking. 

Vegeta walked away from the now-useless ship and their sorry little gathering of combatants. His ribs ached, fractured in his battles on Kobari. A particularly deep cut on his right calf would need attention soon. If they ever found a fucking building, he would also get some ice for his dislocated and field-reset left shoulder. 

A headache threatened, and Vegeta resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, keeping his arms safely folded. Ederik would be waiting for any slip, filing it away for Zarbon’s entertainment.

He probably shouldn’t have threatened Zarbon’s little pet with murder. Maybe he could find an opening to carry through with it before Ederik made a report. 

“Okay, but my scouter’s not picking up a damn thing. No transmissions, no locators, nothing.” Raditz continued chatting to Zaril, sounding only mildly puzzled. “There should be something here if it’s in the PTO net, right?”

Adrenaline surged through Vegeta’s irritation and looming fatigue. Nothing as it should be. No contact from control since they landed.

They’d landed in a trap.

“Vegeta!” Cala’s shout was the only warning he had before something slammed into his side, knocking the breath out of him. A person, he registered mammalian scent, an unnatural shade of orange. Why hadn’t his scouter picked up anything? 

He slammed into a cliff, jarring already cracked ribs. The spaceship was invisibly tiny in the distance. Vegeta hissed, rising and bracing himself in a fighting stance. Who the fuck had attacked him on this supposedly conquered planet?

His scouter blipped, registering multiple large powers appearing seemingly out of nowhere. The largest, reading over 11,000, was headed straight for him.

What was someone so powerful doing on such a backwater, supposedly peacefully agrarian, planet? Nappa and Raditz would fall instantly before such an opponent. 

Who in the name of Soli and Tor was he fighting? 

Orange, a flare of ki. Vegeta stared at his enemy, now standing before him. That hair. The face, the posture, the battle poise, all read as inescapably Saiyan. But the man standing before Vegeta wore strange orange garments, loose fitted. And he was not bowing down to Vegeta, his prince. 

Frieza planet 340. What had it originally been called?

The man hesitated, frowned. “You look pretty beat up already. Wasn’t my kick that did all that.”

Vegeta snarled and launched himself at his opponent, aiming a sweeping kick towards his head. The other man deflected it easily, moving far faster than his power should have allowed. Vegeta’s scouter beeped distractingly, readings on his opponent’s ki fluctuating apparently faster than the scouter’s readout could keep up. 

A fist racing towards Vegeta’s stomach. He blocked it barely in time, felt the power of the blow judder up his arms, setting his already damaged left shoulder on fire. 

Darting back, Vegeta threw a fistful of ki at his opponent, smiled as it grazed the man and left his shoulder seared. The orange clothing was apparently flimsy, disintegrating under Vegeta’s blast. 

Something in his opponent’s expression changed, became more deadly. The readings on Vegeta’s scouter raced upwards impossibly fast. The man in orange charged forwards, ducking Vegeta’s guard to land a solid hit to Vegeta’s sternum. Breath knocked out of him, Vegeta was thrown backwards, colliding with the dirt some meters away. His scouter exploded in a shower of broken glass. 

Snarling, Vegeta surged back to his feet in time to catch his opponent’s thrown fist in his hand and return a punch of his own. Vegeta’s fist smashed into the man’s abdomen, doubled him over coughing. Grinning wide, Vegeta charged a ki blast into his opponent’s stomach, relished the answering scream of pain.

That would teach the bastard to assume Vegeta would stay down from such a little hit.

Light flashed, alerting Vegeta, and he flung his opponent away just in time to misdirect the ki blast the man was aiming at Vegeta’s leg. Fuck. He was going to keep going after Vegeta had hit him with that much ki right in the stomach?

If only Vegeta hadn’t been injured coming into this fight. 

His enemy gave him no time to dwell on it, charging back, throwing blows and ki blasts. Vegeta was barely keeping up, could feel exhaustion beginning to weigh down his limbs. His days on Kobari had left him worn thin already. This fight couldn’t have come at a worse time. 

A punch split Vegeta’s lip, and he tasted blood. The iron tang infuriated him, and he screamed his rage, swinging to return the favor. That impossibly fast movement from his opponent again, then a clunk, a horrible ache through his left shoulder. Fuck. Vegeta’s left arm dangled useless, dislocated again. 

Orange blurred past him and Vegeta panicked, realizing his opponent had gained his back. A strong arm wrapped around his neck, crushing Vegeta’s windpipe. Vegeta gripped his enemy’s wrist with his right hand, desperately trying to lessen the pressure, to get some air. He didn’t have enough leverage.

Frantic, Vegeta freed his tail from around his waist, struck it wildly downwards towards his opponent’s leg. He landed a solid hit on his enemy’s thigh and felt the man twitch. The arm around Vegeta’s neck loosened fractionally. Snarling, Vegeta threw his head backwards into his opponent’s face, eliciting a grunt of pain. The smell of iron filled the air and Vegeta grinned in satisfaction. He’d broken the bastard’s nose. 

But still, his opponent didn’t let go. The arm around Vegeta’s neck tightened again, no opening for Vegeta to escape despite the pain he’d managed to inflict on his enemy. Black crawled into the edges of Vegeta’s vision. He needed air. 

He raised his knee and stamped towards his enemy’s toes, but couldn’t get the right angle to connect. The man in orange was taller than Vegeta, though not nearly so tall as Raditz, and his height gave him additional leverage. Vegeta grit his teeth and clung to consciousness. He was not going down to this gaudily clad clown. 

Who the fuck was this bastard, anyway?

“Damn,” the man sounded impressed, “you’re really tough, aren’t you?”

Vegeta wouldn’t have dignified that with an answer even if he had the air to do so.

Tough though he was, stubborn though he was, he still needed air. Vegeta’s head spun, vision blurring and fading. 

Fighting it every step of the way, growling his rage, he slumped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Cold at his back. An ache in his head. Vegeta kept his eyes closed as he struggled back to consciousness, trying to figure out where the fuck he was. 

Bands around his wrists and ankles. Tied down.

That man in orange. Who the hell was he? He’d beaten Vegeta, but apparently hadn’t had the guts to finish him off. 

“Alright,” a female voice, crisp and no-nonsense, “I’ve checked him over, no serious damage. You can move him to a holding cell.”

“Are you sure, ChiChi?” Vegeta tensed at this new voice. His orange-clad enemy. “I hit him pretty hard back there.”

Why the fuck did his enemy sound so implausibly concerned for Vegeta’s wellbeing? 

“I’m positive, Goku,” so, a name to attach to the face, though an inexplicable one, not Saiyan at all, “his file says that his species heals incredibly fast, the damage you did is only minor for him.”

Surely this ‘Goku’ should know how fast Saiyans could heal, since he obviously was one. What the fuck was going on? 

“Right,” unease creeping into Goku’s tone, pricking Vegeta’s interest, a potential weapon for later, “go ahead and uncuff him then ChiChi, I’ll move him to a cell like you said.”

Hah. The fools didn’t realize he’d awoken. Vegeta fought to keep up his mimicry of unconsciousness, ready to escape at the first opportunity. 

They’d regret their underestimation of just how fast a Saiyan could heal. 

Restraints were unbuckled from his wrists and ankles, and he caught the scent of his opponent leaning closer. Warm and surprisingly pleasant, spicy and complex in comparison to the fresh foliage scent of the female. 

Vegeta snapped his eyes open and lashed out, catching Goku in the stomach. But something was wrong. His limbs felt weak, sluggish, and he knew even without looking at Goku’s face that his hit had lacked power.

The look in Goku’s eyes set knives through Vegeta’s stomach. His enemy was looking at him with pity.

“Sorry about that,” Goku’s voice was soft and warm, bizarre for a Saiyan, “but we had to stick a ki dampener on you, since you came here planning to conquer Earth and all.”

Vegeta’s eyes were dragged unwillingly to his right wrist. There, a grim metal band, surely responsible for locking his own power away from him. His lips curled back, a feral snarl. 

He couldn’t accept this. This loss of control. He’d sooner die than live abased like this. 

Wildly, he scanned the room. A weapon. A blade. Something he could use. On his opponent, himself, he wasn’t picky. Anything to get that damned ki dampener off his arm. He’d take his hand along with it if he had to.

“Easy.” Goku sounded concerned, the bastard. He gathered Vegeta’s wrists together with miserable ease, pulling Vegeta off the table in a motion that was disgustingly gentle. Hand braced behind Vegeta’s good shoulder, keeping the tension of his pull off the damaged left.

What the fuck was going on? Vegeta bit back a scream of outrage. 

“Alright,” Goku continued, slapping humiliatingly simple cuffs around Vegeta’s wrists, “we’re just going to head on over to the holding cells now, nice and easy, there’ll be a warm meal waiting for you when you get there.”

 _What the fuck was going on._ A frantic growl bubbled through Vegeta, his tail lashing furiously. This was a trap. A trick. Who the fuck were these people. Why were they being _nice_ while simultaneously subjugating him in the worst way possible, stripping his power away and leaving him with nothing of himself? 

_Nothing made any sense._

Warm hands on his shoulders as Goku gripped and gently pushed Vegeta forward, presumably steering him to the holding cells. His shirt was gone, Vegeta realized distantly, though something wrapped his left shoulder. Bandages? 

“Who the hell are you people,” he snarled through gritted teeth. Goku silently steered him through the door of what must be the med-bay. 

Earth. That must be this planet’s original name, that Goku had mentioned before. It rang familiar, but Vegeta couldn’t quite place it, head still spinning with the panic of the ki-dampener. 

“We’re not anybody special,” Goku answered softly once they were in the corridor. The metal was cold on Vegeta’s confusingly bare feet. “Just a bunch of people who’d rather not be part of any Empire.”

“Sounds pretty fucking special to me,” Vegeta muttered. Bitter. Who the fuck _would_ want to be part of Frieza’s damned shitty Empire? 

It certainly hadn’t brought Vegeta’s own people any joy. 

Which reminded him. “Tell me, Goku, do you have a tail?”

A barely-there shudder, a tiny falter in Goku’s step, but Vegeta still caught it. He’d been right, then. Despite his Earth-garb and his Earth-name, the man behind him was a Saiyan. 

Did Goku himself know that?

“Here’s your new accommodations.” Goku brought them to a rough halt, at odds with his earlier gentleness. Shaken. “They’re not much, but they’re clean and there’s plenty of food. Fresh clothes, too.”

A metal door hissed open revealing a small enclosed cube. Vegeta reluctantly let himself be pushed into it, dragging his feet as much as he could. A line on the floor, which Goku pushed Vegeta over before quickly stepping back. An energy barrier flared to life at Vegeta’s back, and he turned to stare at his newest Saiyan subject. Metal still cold around his wrists. Vegeta lifted his cuffed hands accusingly. 

“Ah,” Goku’s face flushed as if guilty, “sorry, let me get those off you.” He slapped a button on the wall, outside the energy barrier hemming Vegeta in. The barrier faded, and Goku quickly reached to undo the cuffs before pushing Vegeta away again and reactivating the shield. 

He couldn’t possibly be Saiyan. So gentle. So _kind_. Vegeta bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. 

They stood, watching each other, on opposite sides of the humming blue of the energy barrier. Vegeta glared. 

“Take the fucking ki dampener off, you coward.” 

Goku twitched. “I wish I could, believe me.” 

Oh did he now? Vegeta smirked, teeth sharp. How very Saiyan of him. 

“You know, Goku, you would never have won if I’d been at full strength. Don’t get too carried away in patting yourself on the back.”

Goku’s brow furrowed, and Vegeta’s tail flicked in glee. Another successful hit. Deny it though he probably would, the man before him was Saiyan, with all the deep-seated battle-instincts that entailed. 

“Look, if things were different, I’d be the first to suggest a rematch once you’re healed, to settle the record,” heat layered Goku’s tone, frustration bleeding through to his previously placid expression, “but you’re part of that PTO mess that just want to drain Earth dry, so much as I’d like to fight you fair and square, I have to put Earth’s safety first.” 

Vegeta folded his arms, leaned his bare shoulder against the cold metal of the wall with a confident smirk. “You just keep telling yourself that, little Earth warrior.” 

Goku’s fists clenched, satisfying confirmation that Vegeta’s jab had landed. He looked up to meet Vegeta’s eyes, brow furrowed. 

“I should tell you,” the tension in the Earth warrior’s tone caught Vegeta’s interest, “that you don’t have to stay in that box forever.”

“Oh? And how would I be leaving it exactly?”

Goku took a deep breath, bracing himself. “You could join us. Fight against the Empire, instead of for it.”

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed and laughed, relishing the echo off his tidy little cube. 

Defy the Empire. As if he’d never fucking thought of that.

He was still laughing when Goku grimaced and exited the cube, doors hissing closed behind him.

* * *

His head ached. Groaning, Raditz sat up. A little metal cube, no windows, energy wall blocking the visible door. 

The smell of roasted meat filled his nose, and he swallowed. Fuck he was hungry. 

Where the hell was he? Pushing himself off the bed, Raditz staggered slightly. He felt like one giant bruise. Still the plates across the room piled with food called to him, and he limped over, fell upon the meal. 

Frieza Planet 340, Zaril had called it. Agrarian. Peaceful. 

Who the hell had attacked them?

Surprisingly strong, all of them. First that crazy bastard in orange who had picked Vegeta off as if it were child’s play, separating their strongest fighter from the rest of the group. How had they known? 

Cala’s strength was nothing to laugh at, a cool 14,000 that had easily earned her Raditz’s respect and more grudgingly Nappa’s, but she’d already been injured from Kobari. 

It still should have been enough. The readings on their scouters had first indicated the strongest fighter at 11,000. 

Then the scouters had started going wild. Up, down, flashing, beeping. Exploding distractions. Raditz grimaced, hand going to his ear. Nothing. Right, even if his scouter had remained intact, he’d hardly have been left with it in imprisonment.

Had their enemies really been varying their power that wildly? It sure as fuck looked like they had been. 

That green one and the little one had overpowered Cala, the short bald one and the three-eyed one teaming up to take Nappa down. Existing goddamn injuries. Without that, their landing team probably would have been fine.

Raditz and Zaril had been next to useless, already bruised and battered and the weakest to begin with. The pretty boy had knocked Zaril down, acting as if she were nothing but an animal, and some shitty powder puff of a being had frozen Raditz still for long enough that pretty boy chopped him in the neck next. 

What the hell were those abilities? 

Embarrassing, was what they were. 

Where the fuck had Ederik been hiding during all that? Slimy bastard. 

The door clanged open, and Raditz paused in stuffing his face to look up. The small bald one, surprisingly strong from the glimpse Raditz had caught of his fight with Nappa.

“So,” the little man crossed the room to stand just outside the energy barrier from Raditz, “enjoying the food?”

“Yeah, ‘s good stuff.” Raditz shoved another huge portion into his mouth, chewing as obnoxiously as possible. Vegeta had suggested many times that Raditz had obnoxiousness down to a fine art. 

The man just stared at him, arms folded over a blinding orange garment. “You sure eat a lot, huh?”

“Yeah?” That was normal for a Saiyan, but if he was captive Raditz was going to give them fuckall in terms of useful information. Even eating habits could be used as leverage.

“Yeah,” a frown, “I know someone else who eats like that, too.”

“Yeah?” Interesting. “He from around here?”

“Yeah, of course, he,” a stuttered pause, face twisted in confusion. “Of course he’s from around here. Where else would he be from?”

Touchy touchy. Interesting. Raditz smiled lazily, tail flicking amusement. The man in orange jumped, wide eyes tracking his tail’s motion.

Now what was that about?

“Dunno, man, you tell me.” Raditz watched the other man swallow hard. Damn, but he’d hit upon a nerve here. 

That attention to his tail, not letting up in the slightest. What was that about?

“You seen one’ve these before?” Raditz lifted his tail, waved it languidly. Smothered a satisfied grin as the man tensed further. “Not on your friend with an appetite?”

The hit landed visibly, the short man paling. Raditz did grin this time, predatory teeth showing. “Well then, you tell him hello from me.”

He let out a bark of laughter as his captor fled, metal doors swishing closed behind him.

Locked in a box, and he still hadn’t lost his talent for annoying the shit out of people.


	2. Taking Aim: Tension

Bulma smiled sympathetically at the alien before her. He was pretty good looking, despite being light blue. Handsome jawline, sleek sapphire hair pulled back in a ponytail, a winning smile. 

“Ederik, right?” She pushed a mug of coffee across the table to him. “Here. We’ve cross-referenced with the files we grabbed from the PTO med database, this should be perfectly safe for Emlisians.”

He gave her another of those gorgeous smiles, gratefully clasping his hands around the mug. “Thank you for your care, Bulma. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be back among beings who have so much concern for the welfare of others. These past several years in the PTO have been, well…”

“That’s all over now,” Bulma stated firmly, “you’re lucky your unit dragged you to Earth. We’ve got PTO central command good and fooled with my tech. You’re free of them here.”

* * *

The door hissed shut behind Goku, the man’s laughter still ringing impossibly in his ears despite the soundproofing.

Vegeta, his file had said. According to ChiChi. A Saiyan. 

The file had said tails were typical for Saiyans. A battle-loving race. 

Goku shivered, though it was impossible he’d actually be cold in Capsule Corp’s climate-controlled hallway. 

_An incredible ki, far larger than any of the other planetary trade organization goons that had showed up on Earth. Barely beatable at his four-times kaioken limit. Why had someone so powerful come to Earth all of a sudden?_

Terrifyingly large as that power had been, Goku had still felt an ache of disappointment when he realized his opponent was already injured. Wasn’t even at full power. He itched to test himself against this Vegeta’s full strength, someday.

Goku loved battle after all.

That fury of motion, blows vicious and precise. Sharp teeth, an unholy grin at Goku’s pain when a powerful hit landed. The unexpected grace of those sweeping kicks. 

Much as he hated to admit it, Goku was hooked. He wanted to fight Vegeta again. Needed to.

_Something smacked painfully into his thigh, and Goku nearly lost his grip to shock when he saw what it was. A tail. Just like he had when he was a kid._

_He’d never met someone else who had one._

_Agony exploding across his face, his nose cracking. Goku barely dodged his enemy’s attempt to break his foot. So unbelievably, impressively, tough, fighting this much when Goku had been blocking his air for so long._

Vegeta was covered in scars. After Goku had reluctantly slapped the ki dampener on his wrist and dragged him back to Capsule Corp, he’d had to help ChiChi strip this stranger down to his underwear for medical treatment.

No wonder he’d been so hard to take down. He’d seen a hell of a lot of action. If only he’d been fighting at full power, a victory Goku could be satisfied with. 

Ill advised though he knew it was, Goku desperately wanted a rematch. 

“Dad!” 

Goku turned and smiled, watching his son race along Capsule Corp’s corridor towards him. “Gohan! Good job with the landing party earlier.”

Gohan flung his arms around Goku’s waist as he caught up with him, grinning wide. Goku smiled back and ruffled Gohan’s hair, enjoying the moment. He didn’t see Gohan as much anymore since he and ChiChi split up, only half the week instead of every day. 

“Did you get taller again?” Ten years old, but Goku swore Gohan was far taller than he’d ever been himself at that age.

_”Dad.”_ Gohan’s tone was fond, used to his father’s teasing. “You say that every time, even if you just saw me an hour ago.”

Goku laughed. “Maybe so.” 

They fell into step as they headed to the meeting room, Gohan’s arm around Goku’s waist and Goku’s hand resting on Gohan’s shoulder. 

Goku had lost a year’s worth of time on Earth during his temporary death after the PTO first showed up. King Kai’s training had been a damn good trade though.

“Why do you think such strong fighters showed up this time?” Gohan sounded uneasy.

“Good question, kiddo.” Goku squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Guess we can try asking ‘em.”

He kind of doubted that Vegeta would say anything remotely useful, after their previous conversations. Maybe some of the other new captives would be more forthcoming. 

The meeting room door was already open, soft chatter drifting to the hallway. Goku knocked on the doorframe as he entered, grinned at his friends. “Hey!”

“Goku!” Krillin and Yamcha turned to grin back at him, Puar waving over Yamcha’s shoulder. Chaozu waved too, and Tien gave a small smile. 

Goku slid into a seat, Gohan taking the next one over. Kami and Mr PoPo smiled serenely from the far end of the table. 

“Hold on. Am I early?” Goku scanned the room, noted a few missing faces. 

“Sorry I’m late!” Bulma burst through the doorway, dragging a blue man with her, “everyone, meet Ederik! He’s the newest member of our Resistance!”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring a brand new member to this meeting?” ChiChi followed Bulma in, shoes clacking briskly against the floor. 

“Of course! He’s got all the latest goss.” Bulma smiled widely at the room, pushing Ederik into a chair. Goku surveyed the newest arrival. He looked harmless enough, with a pretty low ki in the scheme of things, but something about him set Goku’s teeth on edge. 

“Can I offer anyone some tea?” Bulma’s mother bustled through the doorway, tray in hand. Dr Briefs followed, distractedly petting the small black cat perched on his shoulder. 

“Oh, thank you!” Launch, hair peacefully dark, took a teacup from Mrs Briefs as she entered the room. Master Roshi and Oolong trailed after her. 

“Great, looks like almost everyone is here.” Bulma scanned the room.

“We’re all here.” Piccolo’s deep voice from a corner, making everyone jump. When had he gotten there, and why was this the first Goku had noticed him?

“Piccolo!” Gohan was clearly delighted to see him, even though Goku knew they’d just fought a successful battle together only a few hours before. 

“Let’s get started, then!” Bulma clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. 

“I agree with ChiChi,” Piccolo’s voice was grim, “this is no meeting for a new recruit.” 

“Oh, come on, Piccolo,” annoyance layered Bulma’s tone, “he’s the first real convert we’ve gotten from the PTO, and you want to give him the cold shoulder right off the bat?”

Piccolo glared, but stayed silent. Goku’s skin prickled, his senses inexplicably on edge. 

“I’m not surprised you’ve had no other converts,” Ederik spoke in a deep smooth voice that should have been pleasant but instead sounded slippery to Goku, “the consequences for betrayal do not bear speaking of.”

“And what makes you so different from all our previous visitors?” Piccolo remained grim. 

Ederik smiled weakly, and Goku felt his skin prickle with warning again. “I suppose I’m simply willing to risk the consequences, rather than remain part of that soulless machine for a single day more.”

“Well, then, how about you start by explaining what your little party is doing here?” ChiChi’s voice was brusque, no-nonsense. Goku smiled fondly. 

“Of course,” Ederik lowered his head, taking a deep breath as if steadying himself, “it was Vegeta’s idea. Those Saiyans and their appetites. He wasn’t satisfied with his PTO allocations, he wanted to take more for himself, directly from the source. I was forced here on his whim for a mission of plunder.”

What? Goku recognized nothing of the warrior he’d fought in Ederik’s statement. 

If anything Vegeta had just looked tired, when Goku first walloped him. Before the adrenaline of the fight woke him up to glorious ferocity. 

“Saiyans?” ChiChi’s tone was sharp. Goku realized with a shock that she knew at least as much as he did. About Saiyans and tails and fighting. 

“A lying, blood-thirsty race of monkeys good for nothing but destruction,” bitterness entered Ederik’s voice, “we’re fortunate that there are only three of them left.”

In the whole world? Three sounded such a small number. 

“Monkeys?” Bulma, eyes narrowed.

“Their tails. The easiest way to identify them.” Ederik shrugged. “You’ll have no luck, converting those three. Best to dispatch of them before they turn on you like the animals they are.”

Three captives. Ederik hadn’t included Goku in his Saiyan count. 

He hoped no one else said anything. Ederik set his teeth on edge, and Goku didn’t want the blue man knowing about the tail he used to have. 

Animals. Was that what Saiyans were? Goku thought back to stubborn endurance, haughty eyes. Vicious though Vegeta was, Goku couldn’t imagine labeling him as an animal. 

The room was still around him. Everyone had grasped the significance of the comment about a species identified by a monkey-like tail. The set of Gohan’s shoulders was tense, and Piccolo’s glare looked ready to set fire to something. 

“Well,” Bulma was tentative now, “I suppose we’d better talk to some of these Saiyans.”

“I really wouldn’t bother,” Ederik clasped his hands together and looked down at them sadly, “no matter how many chances you give to a Saiyan, they’re truly incapable of reason.”

* * *

_”Best to dispatch of them before they turn on you like the animals they are.”_

The blue man’s comment lingered in Goku’s mind. Bulma had seemed to trust their newest recruit, but Goku wasn’t sure. 

His feet slowed as he passed Vegeta’s cell. He wanted to go back in and ask him about the plunder thing, but he didn’t want Vegeta starting any more conversations about tails. 

Bulma was slated to talk to Vegeta next anyway. Best to leave her to it. 

Goku continued along the hall, a few more doors down. ChiChi had neatly maneuvered the questioning assignments so that Goku wasn’t talking to any of the three Saiyans. Much as he was curious about them, he was relieved. 

This alien was purple, he noticed as he stepped inside the cell. She had a short frill of ridged skin around her hairless head. It reminded him of those lizards that flared and hissed when they got angry.

Locking eyes on him, the purple alien stiffened, frill rising threateningly. Huh. He hadn’t even said anything yet.

“Cala, right?” Goku opened mildly. The name was pulled from Bulma’s hacked files.

“You fucker,” Cala hissed at him, “what, purging nearly every Illian wasn’t enough for you, and you wanted to finish the job?”

“Wh-what?” Gears ground to a halt in Goku’s head. Illian was her species, he thought. Purge? “I don’t think I’ve ever met an Illian before, are you sure you’ve got the right guy?”

His heart was slamming, skin growing cold. There was a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach as he tried to think of an explanation that wasn’t about Saiyans and murder.

She stared at him, eyes cold. Then, unexpectedly, her gaze softened a fraction. “You know, you’re right. Wrong guy. You don’t have a scar like he did.”

Goku took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. He crossed his arms to try to warm himself up a little.

“Huh.” Cala stood, walked over to the barrier. She was tall, a couple handspans above Goku’s own height. “You look Saiyan, but you sure don’t act it.”

He just couldn’t get away from conversations about Saiyans today.

“You came here with a couple Saiyans, right?”

“Sure.” Cala shrugged.

“You’re not mad at ‘em?” He wasn’t quite sure for what, but seemed it could be a lot of things. Purges. Steering off course for an extra resource pickup. He still wasn’t sure he trusted what Ederik had said earlier.

Cala studied him for a moment, then shrugged again. “Not for my planet. They weren’t even old enough to be on the battlefield when that happened. Well. Two of the three.”

“What about for dragging you here?” Goku was feeling calmer now, tone of light curiosity coming easily back. 

She snorted. “Who told you that one? I’m not easy to drag, you know.”

“I believe you.” The warrior before him was clearly tough as nails. Goku couldn’t see her being pressed into some fool’s errand anymore than he could see Vegeta leading one.

“Hm.” Cala’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a strange one.”

Goku smiled. “You’re not the first to tell me that.”

Pretty much everyone he knew had told him that at some point. Goku didn’t mind. He was how he was, and he was comfortable with that. 

He just wasn’t sure about who he was stretching to encompass a whole alien race with a fondness for murder. 

“So why’d you come here, then?” Goku had never been much for talking in circles.

Cala stared at him some more, then sighed. “What the hell. May as well just tell you.” Her head frill fluffed then relaxed, as if she’d shaken out tension. “Our ship got damaged. We just needed somewhere with a breathable atmosphere to set down.”

“Wait. You mean you didn’t come here for Earth at all?” Goku’s eyes widened. That made so much more sense. How tired most of the new arrivals seemed. The injuries they’d arrived with. 

Just an accident, that these powerful fighters had stumbled onto their secret resistance. 

“Yeah.” Cala sighed. “We just came for the air, y’know? Weren’t expecting a fight.” She paused, eyed him curiously. “You fought Vegeta, right? You look pretty damn healthy for that.”

Goku grinned. “Yeah. He’s crazy tough. Wish I could have fought him when he was at full power.”

Cala barked out a laugh. “Only a fucking Saiyan would say something that insane.” 

There wasn’t any malice in her tone. Just amusement. Goku’s smile stayed in place, no stab of cold running through him at the conversation’s turn.

“You really met someone who looked that much like me? A Saiyan?”

“Sure did.” Cala tilted her head. “You didn’t know? That you’re Saiyan?”

“I— I never agreed with you that I am.”

“You could hardly be anything else, with that appearance and that love of fighting. Although,” she leaned forward, resting one forearm on the energy barrier, “come to think of it, I’m not seeing a tail.”

Goku’s heart sped up. “I don’t have one.” Not a lie, exactly. 

Pursed lips. “Don’t have one now, or never had one?”

Shit. Deceit had never been Goku’s strong suit. 

“I gotta go,” he backed up, grinned, waved cheerfully, “correct some misinformation, and all that. See ya next time.”

“Coward!” Her voice chased him as he fled the room. Again, more amused than anything else. 

Damn. Goku knew these were enemies, but between how fascinating Vegeta was and how easy Cala was to get along with, he was having a hard time keeping that in his head.

Better pass along what he’d learned to Bulma, about the reason they had these new visitors. He’d leave it to someone smarter to figure out why things weren’t adding up with what Ederik told them.

* * *

Her footsteps echoed in the metal corridor. Even after three years of it, Bulma couldn’t get used to running a prison and interrogation center out of her home’s basement. The world government had been very supportive with resources, of course, but they’d washed their hands of as much responsibility as they possibly could. 

Bulma didn’t blame them. Dealing with PTO goons was a pain. The sooner they finished processing this batch and sent them off to the long-term holding cells in East City, the better. 

First, though, she needed to talk to this Vegeta. From what Ederik said, he was a real piece of work. 

The door to the Saiyan’s cell swished open in front of her, and she stepped inside, eyes automatically scanning for the reassuring blue of her energy barrier. Ki dampener or no, Bulma was under no illusions about how easily an enemy warrior could break her with bare hands alone. 

She searched the cell for its occupant, jumped slightly when she spotted him sitting on the narrow bed, arms crossed over his chest and legs stretched out casually in front of him. Watching her with intense dark eyes. He was good looking in a strange, ferocious way. Almost completely human in appearance apart from that implausibly tall flame of hair. 

Motion caught her eye. A tail, twitching slightly, the only part of him that wasn’t frozen in unnatural stillness. 

It looked just like the tail that Goku used to have. 

“So,” Bulma clapped her hands together, to gather herself as much as anything else, and walked closer to the barrier, “you’re Vegeta, right?”

No response. Even his tail stilled, and he continued to watch her. 

“My name’s Bulma,” she told him, speaking with forced cheer, “sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”

His eyes narrowed. “Improve them, then.”

A deep growl of a voice. Damn, that was kind of sexy. Too bad he seemed like an asshole. 

“Hey, bud, that’s on you.” Bulma folded her arms. “You’re the one who showed up here looking to pillage and plunder.”

He raised a dark eyebrow, the picture of refined skepticism. “What makes you think that?”

Alright, she’d play. “Well you’re PTO, for one. All you lot ever want is to take Earth’s resources and move ‘em elsewhere.”

He shifted on the bed, turning fully towards her and rearranging his legs. So she had his attention now, hmm?

“I could hardly help but notice,” a sarcastic drawl that she appreciated, “that your other PTO visitors seem to have met with some unfortunate end.”

“Oh, not that unfortunate. They’re alive still. More than generous on our part.” Especially given what the bastards in that first landing party had done to Goku, Tien, and her poor sweet Yamcha. Thank Kami (hah) that Piccolo had survived, and the Dragonballs with him. 

Krillin too. No one could come back a second time, after all. 

“Luxury accommodations in their own little boxes?” 

“More or less.” Bulma shrugged. “But hey, I’m the one with questions, here.” 

His tail flicked again, but his face remained impassive. 

“Why Earth?” If only he’d chosen somewhere else to get more resources or whatever the hell he’d been after. Someone this powerful, even the PTO would probably notice his absence. Their days of flying under the radar might well be over. 

A slight tilt of his head, curious. “If you know anything of the PTO, then surely you know we simply go where we’re told.” 

“But you didn’t, did you?” She couldn’t believe that PTO command would have sent someone this powerful here, not unless they’d noticed that her reports to control had been careful fabrications for the past three years. 

Her hacking had been pretty damned impressive, if she did say so herself. Besides that, if central had noticed, surely this team would have been on alert when they landed, rather than the easy ambush that Yamcha had gleefully described to her.

The Saiyan’s eyes narrowed, lips curling back to reveal sharp teeth. Bulma shivered. 

“I know all about your motives,” she bluffed, moving closer to the energy barrier to jab an accusatory finger at him, “you just wanted a get rich quick scheme, picking up resources that weren’t yours to collect.”

His eyes widened, lips parting slightly in shock. Hah. So he hadn’t expected her to have inside information. Looked like she’d struck home.

“Where did you get _that_ ridiculous idea from?” Scorn layering his voice now, mouth twisted in a sneer.

Bulma crossed her arms, triumphant. “We have our ways.”

He had the nerve to roll his eyes at her. “Fools’ ways, from the sound of it.”

She glared at him. “You’re just mad because I’m right!”

The Saiyan threw back his head and burst out laughing. Bulma flushed, furious. “Sit in here and laugh it up then! You’re trapped until we say so, regardless.”

Blue light crackled and boomed as he launched himself into the energy barrier, snarling in her face. Bulma screamed, jumping backwards and colliding with the cell’s wall. 

“Believe me, woman, when I get out of here, and I _will_ , I will make you regret every word of that.”

She believed him. 

Edging along the wall, Bulma listened for the swish of the motion-activated main doors, swallowing hard. He tracked her with bloodthirsty eyes, face twisted with hatred.

The doors opened and she stumbled out, shaking so hard she collapsed to the floor. If it hadn’t been for the energy barrier, she had no doubt he’d have snapped her neck like a twig, ki dampener be damned. A feral animal. 

Ederik was right. Saiyans were incapable of reason.


	3. Taking Aim: Digging In

Vegeta glared at the cold grey ceiling. Judging by the number of meals they’d brought, he’d been here for days now. His wounds from Kobari had healed up nicely under the Earth-medic’s care.

The verbal knife the blue-haired woman had twisted left a lingering ache. He was trapped until their say-so. 

As soon as he figured out how to get the damned ki dampener off, he was going to repay them tenfold for the pain of this humiliation. The gall of these Earthlings, stripping his power away and sticking him in this windowless little cube.

If he’d thought they had the cunning, he would have been impressed at the effectiveness of this powerless isolation as a torture mechanism. Nothing to see, nothing to read, hardly any space to move. Four of his short paces to cross the widest part of the room, nothing in here with him but a bed molded from the wall and sparse toileting facilities tucked behind a thick frosted plastic wall. He could do limited exercises with his muscles alone, push-ups and stretches and the like, but the frustration of moving with his ki locked away from him left Vegeta snarling and punching walls.

He sat up and inspected his cracked and bloodied knuckles. The room had come with fresh clothing, loose pants, a shirt without sleeves, undergarments, but nothing to cover his feet or hands. 

There had to be a way out. Vegeta pressed his thumb against his lips, hand a closed fist, and went over again what he had to work with.

No door in his little box. The energy barrier blocked it. A vent for air, but it was tiny, barely big enough to fit his arm into even if he had some way to get the grate off. No utensils brought with the food, just meals to be eaten with hands, served on plates made of paper. 

Vegeta chewed his thumbnail. No matter how much he went over it, there simply wasn’t anything for him to work with. Escaping when they brought the meals was implausible. The energy barrier opening would be barely large enough for him to slide through, which he could only do slowly without his ki, and then he’d still be blocked by the outer metal doors.

His nails scraped his wrist, fingers scrabbling at the ki dampener, trying to twist it. There was no looseness to the damn thing. Even if he smashed his hand, and there was nothing in this room he could use to do that, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to slide the band off his arm. It had moulded to him somehow after the bastards attached it, not even leaving enough space for him to slide a finger under it.

The new scratches he made on his wrist joined existing trails in various stages of healing.

Footsteps outside. Vegeta quickly arranged himself into a nonchalant pose, leaning back against the wall as if he reclined at comfort in a palace instead of being locked in this fucking hateful box. It had seemed effective enough at disconcerting the woman.

The doors swished open. Too early, he thought, for one of the silent food deliveries. 

Messy black hair and a bright orange uniform. Ahah. The traitor Saiyan had come to pay him another visit.

“Mornin’,” Goku said cheerfully, strolling up to the energy wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He probably didn’t, the empty headed bastard.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” Vegeta snapped bitterly. Goku’s face fell, and he shuffled his feet apologetically. 

Why was he so _nice?_

“Sorry about the lack of windows an’ all,” a verbal apology even, unbelievable. Goku’s eyes scanned the room, lingered on Vegeta. A good thing that Vegeta’s current posture, arms folded, kept the damage to his hands and arms hidden.

“Why don’t you add some, then.” These fucking Earthlings, apologizing for the poor accommodations but without any intent to change them. It grated on his nerves, reminded him of Frieza’s falsely oozed niceties. The blue-haired woman had tried the same fake lines.

Goku shrugged. “Can’t.” He snapped his mouth shut, frowned. “But you could move to a different room.” He met Vegeta’s gaze hopefully. “Did you think any more about what I said last time? About joining us?”

His freedom dangled, a hook on a line. The same demon’s bargain he’d already made once with Frieza. Join me and you won’t be locked up. Join me and you can keep breathing just a little longer. 

Look at how well that had worked out the first time.

Vegeta sneered, turned away from Goku to face straight ahead toward the opposite wall. “You’re dreaming if you think your little resistance stands any chance of succeeding.” 

They were hardly the first ones to try. 

“Maybe so,” Goku frowned, leaned one shoulder against the energy barrier to get even closer, “but at least we’re trying. Do you even like working for that PTO?”

Of course he didn’t. Why the fuck would he like being Frieza’s tool and plaything. 

Vegeta set his teeth and said nothing. He wasn’t going to give them any more weapons to use against him. They had too much over him already.

Which reminded him, he had a weapon of his own when it came to Goku. A memory that had finally flashed back to his head as he lay staring at the damnable ceiling. The reason that the name “Earth” had sounded familiar.

“So tell me, little Earth warrior, have you met your big brother yet?” Vegeta smirked and turned to watch Goku’s reaction.

It was spectacular. All the color drained from Goku’s face, and it looked for a moment as if his lean against the energy barrier was all that kept him from falling. He swallowed hard, hands clenching into fists that could be meant to hide trembling. 

“I don’t have a brother.” But there was uncertainty in Goku’s response. Vegeta grinned, rose to cross the room, arms still folded. 

“Just like you don’t have a tail?” He stopped a mere handspan away on the other side of the energy barrier. Goku’s slumped position had them practically nose to nose. Vegeta had an excellent view of the fear in Goku’s eyes. 

“I—,” Goku stopped, took a deep breath, started again, “I’m not like you.”

“You’re Saiyan,” Vegeta watched the reaction, Goku’s eyes narrowing slightly, “you were sent here as an infant.” 

Why, he wasn’t completely clear on. Raditz had been cagey about whatever his mother had told him on that last call before their home planet blew. A rarity, for him, since Raditz was normally both unbearably talkative and staunchly loyal to Vegeta.

Vegeta hadn’t listened to his chatter carefully enough to remember the name of Raditz’s sibling. Too bad. It would have made a nice additional verbal knife. It sure as hell hadn’t been “Goku”. 

“How- how do you know that?” Goku’s voice was shaky, and Vegeta felt a thrill at having destroyed his relaxed attitude so thoroughly. 

Deliberately, Vegeta shrugged, mirroring Goku’s earlier casual gesture, smirking but saying nothing. No reason to share more with an enemy. He’d accomplished his goal of unsettling Goku handily already. 

Goku frowned, still wobbly, and looked at Vegeta. “You’re a real asshole, aren’t you?” 

Vegeta glared back. “At least I do it on purpose.” The bitterness of his confinement surged back, his glee at taunting Goku cooling already. 

Guilt colored Goku’s expression again as he pulled away from the energy barrier. He opened his mouth as if to say something again, then seemed to think better of it, instead shaking his head and leaving through those tantalizing outer doors. 

Alone in his box again. Vegeta just barely bit back a scream, turned and punched the wall once, twice, three times. Leaned his head against it, let the cool metal and sting of his freshly bloodied knuckles fill his focus.

* * *

“You may enter, Mr. Zarbon.” Frieza’s cold voice rang out, and Zarbon took his cue to step through the doors to the command room, sinking before his lord with one knee to the floor and an obedient hand over his heart.

Frieza’s smirk was pleased as he surveyed Zarbon over the rim of his wine glass. “You may rise. Please do share this news you spoke of.”

Zarbon stood crisply, cape falling smoothly behind him. “My Lord.” He bit back a smile, delighted by the news he could now share. “I regret to inform you that we have received confirmation of the Saiyans’ treachery. They have joined a resistance movement on Frieza Planet 340.”

The wine glass smashed into the wall. Frieza’s face twisted in an ugly pout. “After all I have done for those ungrateful monkeys, this is how they repay me?”

“Ungrateful indeed.” Zarbon kept his tone neutral. He’d hated the beastly Saiyans for years now, the way they sneered at Zarbon and kept only barely inside the bounds of their station. Acted as if they did him a favor when following orders. 

He had hoped for years to catch them in a slip up. Something that would turn Frieza’s amusement at the little Saiyan prince into fury. The report that Ederik had sent from Frieza Planet 340 surpassed Zarbon’s wildest dreams. He had been right to entrust Ederik with the duty of watching those fool monkeys. 

“When they went off course on their way back from Kobari, I had my suspicions.” Frieza glowered, gesturing sharply at an attendant to bring him more wine. The little blue mammal hurried forward, whiskers trembling as he reverently placed a fresh glass in Frieza’s dark-nailed hand. 

“They’ll need to be brought back and made into examples, of course.” Frieza sipped his wine. “Mr Zarbon, kindly see to the arrangements for Mr Dodoria to lead a raid on this Planet 340’s so-called resistance.”

“Yes, my lord,” Zarbon bowed, hand over heart, but hesitated to leave, “it would be my honor to personally bring the Saiyans to heel for their betrayal of your generosity.” 

“An admirable sentiment, Mr Zarbon, but I require your talents elsewhere.” Frieza swirled the wine thoughtfully. “There have been whispers of happenings on Frieza planet 908 that I do not like the sound of. Turn your investigative abilities to that.”

“Of course, my lord.” The conversation was over. Zarbon straightened from his bow and strode from the room to execute his orders.

He regretted that Dodoria would have the fun of this capture, but he would at least have the joy of seeing the example that Frieza would make of those foolish monkeys once they were dragged back. In cages, where they belonged.

* * *

Goku stretched out on the grass, hands folded behind his head, and smiled. His eyes were closed against the sun overhead, warm on his skin. Tantalizing smells drifted from the smokehouse where he’d set some meat to cure. It was always hard not to just eat it right away, but having some to store for later worked out nice on days he didn’t feel like hunting.

He’d never really gotten the hang of buying things at a store. Every couple weeks either Bulma or ChiChi would drop by with things he couldn’t hunt or gather, soap and clothes and stuff, and grumble at him for being a wild thing raised in the woods. 

It was true enough. First he’d been alone in the forest with his Grampa, and that had been nice, warm and full of laughter. Then he’d been alone, and it had hurt a bit, but every day was still full of things he loved. Fresh air and wild smells and things to chase or fight. Bulma’s arrival had changed things both completely and not at all. 

A voice whispered at the back of his head that maybe Goku was bad at Earth society because he was an alien. He pushed the thought away. 

He should gather some more root vegetables next, he decided. Plenty of things that grew in the forest tasted close enough to potatoes and were good to eat. Though ChiChi had never liked them so much. 

Goku pushed to his feet, dusted himself off. He was in older clothes today, blue and white, patched in a couple places. Not like the wildlife cared what impression he made. 

He stretched, smiled at the wide expanse of sky and forest that was all his out here at Mt Paozu. Wild thing he might be, but Goku loved the freedom of his life. 

Guilt pricked at him again. He hoped Bulma had followed up on their conversation yesterday, thought of something to make the prison boxes a little bit less boring. Though apart from Vegeta and Cala, Goku hadn’t met the rest of ‘em. 

So what if he had a brother? If he was part of the PTO, Goku had no interest in him. Especially not with how low and boring the power of the remaining two Saiyans felt.

* * *

Bulma clenched her hands tight around the canvas bag she carried. How the hell had Goku talked her into this? 

Then she thought about how Goku had shuddered at the idea of being confined in a box that small himself, and shuddered even more at the idea of being stuck in a ki dampener. Thought finally of how insane she herself would probably be going if she’d been locked in a windowless room for days with nothing to read or do.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the panel to open the doors to Vegeta’s cell. 

He jolted upright from the narrow bed, eyes wild and sheets tangled around his legs. 

“Sorry,” it was genuine, she realized, as they stared at each other, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

It was noon outside, but then, with no windows, he’d have no way of knowing that. Nor, she realized belatedly, would any of their prisoners have any sense of circadian rhythm on Earth. Though she _had_ set up the lights in the cell to follow the day-night cycles outside. Her technology was on point.

This was why she preferred it when the hand overs were quick. She wasn’t cut out for taking care of people, machines were far easier. 

Vegeta growled. “What do you want this time, woman?”

His hair was askew, mussed from the pillow. It made him look considerably less threatening, and dangerously more human. 

Bulma cleared her throat awkwardly, and inched closer to the energy barrier. “Well, it’s occurred to us that these cells are probably a little bit boring.”

His eyebrows shot upwards, disbelief writ plain. Not even the sneering sort. “You’ve been keeping prisoners down here for how long before having that epiphany?”

“Look, we never planned to be doing this, alright?” Her temper flared, voice sharp. “If you hate being in here so much, why not give some actual thought to Goku’s ridiculously generous offers for you to join us?”

He snorted. “You hate the PTO so much, but your playbook looks the same.”

Bulma’s stomach curdled. “What do you mean?”

Vegeta didn’t answer, twisting his hands deeper into the sheets. He watched her with accusing, exhaustion-bruised eyes. 

“For Kami’s sake, just answer the question.” Bulma stomped right up the energy barrier, mad at herself for caring. “You look like shit already, what else do you think we’re going to throw at you for, you know, actually cooperating?”

He stared at her. “You expect me to believe that your technical team managed to fool PTO central command into thinking this planet was exporting resources that stayed firmly on the ground, but never got as far as looking through the news data banks?”

Bulma’s eyes widened. “Wait, there’s news data banks?” At his eye roll, she lost her temper again. “Look, it’s not a team, okay, it’s just one me, doing all the technical work, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of it.”

He blinked at her, shocked. 

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m both pretty and smart.”

“But utterly lacking common sense, I see.”

“You—!” Bulma caught herself as her volume rose. Snapped her mouth shut, took a deep breath in through her nose.

Vegeta smirked at her, clearly enjoying her frustration.

Bulma did her best to ignore it, and instead dug into her canvas bag. “Alright, here’s the deal. I brought three book options. You can pick one.”

She brought the three books up in a stack, letting the bag fall to the floor. The smirk had slid from Vegeta’s face, replaced with what looked like genuine confusion.

“What, never seen a book before?” 

He glared. “The PTO isn’t so primitive as to keep reading material on paper. Electronic storage saves space.”

“Yeah, we have that too, but you’re a prisoner so you get the old-fashioned version.”

She looked at the three books in her hands, selected to be more or less harmless. The Hobbit, a biology of Earth’s birds, and a somewhat embellished narrative of an old king’s life. “Okay, first question, you want fiction or nonfiction?”

“What?” His brow creased in a surprisingly normal expression. 

This was a far cry from their last conversation. Bulma felt uneasy as she remembered Goku’s concerns. Ederik’s story didn’t add up with Cala’s, and Goku didn’t think it made sense from what he’d seen of Vegeta, either. Bulma hadn’t wanted to believe it earlier, but she was reminded now that Goku had good instincts. 

“Well,” Bulma cleared her throat, decided to answer with as little snark as possible, “fiction is a story that’s made up just for fun, and nonfiction is a story that tells you about something real.”

“Just for fun?” His tail flicked into view, tip twitching in agitation. He seemed to be struggling with the concept of reading purely for pleasure. 

“How about you try the fiction one, then?” Bulma put the other two back down, crossed to slide the Hobbit quickly into the food slot while Vegeta was still sitting on the bed. “New experiences, and all that.”

She glanced back up at him. He looked more confused than ever. 

“Hey, one more time,” Bulma remained in her crouch next to the now sealed energy barrier, “any chance you could just tell me what brought you to Earth?”

He raised a hand to rub tiredly at his eyes, and she saw with a start that his knuckles were cracked and bleeding. ChiChi had pronounced him perfectly healthy two days ago and ended medical checks. He hadn’t had that damage then, had he?

Abruptly Vegeta’s tail fur bristled, and he shoved the hand back under the sheets, hiding it. He looked at her with wild eyes. Bulma fought to keep her expression neutral, hoping that if she looked sufficiently harmless he’d actually answer her question. 

“We didn’t come for anything to do with Earth,” Vegeta finally muttered. He watched her sidelong, tail flicking slightly again while the rest of him remained still. 

Bulma’s heart sank. It matched what Cala had said, and also what Krillin had reported Zaril saying. The other two Saiyans hadn’t divulged anything, but the count was now three against Ederik, including the man who Ederik had pointed to having an interest in Earth specifically. She wanted so desperately to believe Ederik. He’d been kind and gentle, told her how relieved he was to be free of the PTO’s leash, slipped on him when his planet was purged at the PTO’s hands. A stark contrast to how Vegeta scared her half to death at their first meeting.

She’d asked Ederik about the damage to the ship, which had been clear to her when she took a look at it, but he’d just shrugged and said it must have happened during the fighting. Even though none of the Earth warriors had remembered blasts flying that way. 

“Why did you come, then?” Bulma pushed a little more. 

He stared at her, tail stilling. “Fucking ship failure, alright? Your godforsaken little mudball just happened to be closest.” 

Almost word for word what Cala and Zaril had said. Bulma’s heart hammered. “Was everyone on board with that? Diverting to Earth?”

Vegeta scowled. “No. Only those of us who prefer breathing to the taste of Zarbon’s boots.”

“Is ‘Zarbon’s boots’ slang for asphyxiation or something?” Kind of weird, but it did have a certain ring to it. 

A short bark of laughter. “No, but maybe it’ll catch on.” 

Zarbon was probably a person, then. She could try to look them up in the personnel database after she left Vegeta’s cell. 

Bulma stood, adrenaline running high. Time for the database, both the personnel one and, if she was lucky, the news one he’d mentioned. She probably did have access to it through the data cores she’d stolen and the transmission channels she’d hacked, but they’d never really thought to look for such a thing. Too focused on the essentials to keep Earth flying under the radar to care about the rest of what might be going on in the PTO. She knew all about the logistics of food transport in the PTO, and nothing at all of the politicking that might be happening between its members.

She was starting to think that had been a dangerous oversight. 

Vegeta watched her rise, still settled on the bed. Looking not remotely like a wild animal. 

“I’ll be back in a few days to check if you need another book,” Bulma waved vaguely at The Hobbit on the floor, “there’s a whole series after that, if you like it.”

Confusion creased Vegeta’s brow again, painfully human. Bulma gathered her bag and remaining two books and escaped through the sliding double doors without turning back.


	4. Taking Aim: Release

How long had it been now? Raditz continued his push-ups, not really counting. He’d been running through every exercise he could think of, for lack of anything better to do. Regular push-ups, push-ups in a hand-stand, push-ups with one arm, one-armed push-ups in a hand-stand. He wished he’d had more time to learn katas from his mother, even if Vegeta had laughed at the movements when they were children and called them a stupid third-class dance. Maybe they were too good for the elites, but Raditz liked the calmness of ‘em.

The doors swished open, and Raditz sprang from his current hand-stand position to flip and land on his feet. He caught surprise on the face of his visitor. The short bald one again. Probably didn’t expect someone as big as Raditz to move so lightly.

“You’re a bit early, aren’t ya?” He didn’t see any food with the man either.

“I come bearing gifts,” it had the tone of a joke, but Raditz wasn’t familiar with the phrase. Something from this planet, which he still didn’t know the name of. 

He thought briefly of Earth, where his baby brother had been sent, then dismissed it. Whoever the Saiyan was that the bald man knew, he hadn’t had the slightest interest in Raditz so far.

“What kinda gifts?” Raditz ambled over to the barrier. At least this was a break in the monotony of his cell.

“Some, uh, reading options.” The bald man held up some thick chunks of paper, kindling memories of similar objects Raditz had seen on some of the planets they’d purged. Books, but not the digital kind.

He squinted at the writing on them. Huh, the Galik standard, that was interesting. He’d expected the Iothian one out here, much more widespread.

“Star Wars, a biology of lizards, and the history of East City,” he read. 

“Yep, those are the options,” a slightly relieved smile, as if he’d wondered whether Raditz could even read, “you got any preferences?”

“History sounds fun.” Raditz had always liked learning about that sort of thing, sometimes entertained himself during downtime by reading the species and planetary history files appended to the PTO database. Much to Vegeta’s disgust, since he thought Radtiz’s time would be better spent training. 

Seeming relieved at how smoothly the whole conversation had gone, the little man quickly slid the history book through the food slot. Raditz scooped it up and tried not to seem excited about having something other than a wall to look at.

“Say,” worth a shot, at least, “for a bit of context, you want to tell me what the name of this planet is?” It’d probably just be taken as given, in a history, rather than stated.

“Oh,” hesitation in the other man’s features, then a shrug, “well, I guess it couldn’t hurt. This here is planet Earth.”

Raditz felt his eyes widen. This was it, then, the planet Kakarot had been sent to. 

Why hadn’t they met yet?

“Have you heard of it or something?” The short man - the Earthling - had noticed Raditz’s reaction.

Should he tell him? Raditz wasn’t sure.

Best to just leave it up to Vegeta. 

Instead of answering the Earthling’s question, Raditz shrugged. He could wait a bit for more conversation. Especially now that he had another way to distract himself from the cell’s grey walls. 

The Earthling looked disappointed, then shrugged also, turning to leave.

* * *

Clear water rushed along the rocky river bed. Goku stretched and smiled, looked over to where Gohan sat carefully tending the fish cooking on the campfire. He liked weekends with Gohan the best, when Gohan didn’t have to run off for half the day to school.

“How’s lunch lookin’?” Goku called out to his son.

Gohan smiled back, looking relaxed and happy. “Almost ready, dad!”

Goku rose, moved away from the river bank to sit next to Gohan and ruffle his hair. Gohan flopped sideways into him, resting his head on Goku’s shoulder against the blue of his shirt. Smiling, Goku tightened his arm around his son in a half-hug. 

It was good to see Gohan relaxed like this. He’d been tense ever since the subject of Saiyans and tails came up five days ago, no doubt remembering the tail he’d had as a child. Something had happened to it during the year Goku had spent dead, and he’d never asked what. After all, he’d never known what happened to his own tail those first times it disappeared.

“You still having fun at that school?” Goku had never gone, but Gohan seemed to love it.

“Yeah!” Gohan’s eyes shone, and he warmed quickly to the topic. “Yesterday we learnt about the solar system, and how gravity works, and the people who figured all that out. It was really cool!”

“Woah, that’s a lot for one day!” Goku squeezed his son’s shoulders again, proud. He’d never been able to keep information like that in his head, but Gohan seemed to thrive on it. 

“That’s what’s fun about it.” There was laughter in Gohan’s voice, delight at this strange scholarly path he was pursuing alongside his martial arts training. The training a necessity, not a joy, forced on him by the continued threat of PTO invasion. 

Goku hoped that someday they could get rid of the PTO for good, so Gohan wouldn’t have to worry about things like that. 

They’d just started tucking into the fish when the communicator at Goku’s ear started chirping frantically. It had taken almost a year after his return, and a couple near-emergencies, for Bulma to convince him to wear it constantly.

“Bulma?” Goku put his hand to his ear to activate the communicator. “Something going on?”

“I fucked up, Goku,” Bulma was distraught, “I fucked up so bad, Kami. I need you to find Ederik and get him locked up, right now.”

“What?” Goku surged to his feet, nearly tipping Gohan over in his haste. He scrambled to pull on his boots and the rest of his gi. “I’m on my way, what happened?”

“He was lying,” it sounded like Bulma was crying, though maybe more from frustration and fury than from sadness, “his planet wasn’t purged by the PTO at all, his people, Emlisians, are some of the bastards _buying_ the cleared planets! They’re part of the PTO’s core support!”

“ _What?_ ” Shock ripped through Goku’s voice. He turned. “Gohan, buddy, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go, finish lunch without me okay?” 

He didn’t wait for a response, trying not to think about the flash of hurt in Gohan’s eyes as he launched himself into the air at top speed. Ederik’s ki placed him at Capsule Corp, and Goku was horribly worried about Bulma. 

“Bulma, why are we only learning all this now?”

“Because I’m an _idiot_.” She was sobbing in earnest. Definitely frustration. “I’m such an idiot, Goku, I never even thought to check into his species data. I just believed him because he was so fucking _pretty!_ ”

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that Bulma had let someone’s looks distract her. Goku just hoped they’d caught it in time for no real damage to be done. Ederik had only had them fooled for a few days, not long at all. “It’s gonna be okay, Bulma, I’m almost there. I’ll have him boxed up in no time.”

* * *

Vegeta looked doubtfully at the book that the woman had brought. It had a picture of a dragon on the cover. For lack of anything better to do, he flipped it open, started reading. Such strange writing. Rather than plainly conveying information, the words on the page seemed chosen to pull pictures into his head, building an image of a place he’d never seen, people he’d never met.

There hadn’t been any reading material like that at the PTO.

This was considerably better than staring at a wall or trying to exercise with insult of the ki dampener. Vegeta let the writing pull him in, relieved to have some non-existent person’s trivial problems momentarily supplanting the worn path of worries his own thoughts had tread over his days in captivity. 

The door swished open and Vegeta flinched, startled. He’d let himself be so absorbed in the constructed world that he’d stopped listening for footsteps. 

Blue skin. It took precious seconds for Vegeta’s mind to snap back to the present, process what he was seeing. 

Why the hell was Ederik standing in his cell outside the energy barrier, arms free of any ki dampener?

“Are you _reading_ , Vegeta?” Ederik sounded delighted, as if he’d caught Vegeta in some flagrant embarrassment, “I didn’t realize you stupid monkeys even knew how.”

“Ederik.” Vegeta let the book fall from his hands, stood and paced over to the barrier. “What the fuck do you want?” And why in the _fucking hell_ did he have apparent freedom to roam the Earthlings’ base?

Ederik smiled a beatific smile, then hit the panel to drop the energy barrier. He stepped forward and fired a ki blast point blank into Vegeta’s chest.

Vegeta slammed into the back wall, gasping for breath. His skin burned, his usual toughness stripped from him by the ki dampener. 

There was no fucking way he’d settle for dying in such a pathetic manner. 

Ederik raised one dark blue eyebrow. “Impressive. I didn’t think you Saiyans had that much natural resilience, without your irritatingly high ki.” 

He’d meant for that first shot to kill, then. Vegeta bared his teeth, snarling, and launched himself at Ederik, fingers hooking towards the vulnerable softness of his enemy’s eyes. 

Surprise flashed across Ederik’s face at the counter attack. He caught one of Vegeta’s hands by the wrist, but Vegeta caught Ederik’s other arm with his tail, leaving him with one hand free to bury thumb-deep in Ederik’s eyeball. 

The howl of agony that Ederik let out was gratifying. Unfortunately his next response was to slam Vegeta painfully to the ground, curling his fingers around Vegeta’s neck. 

With the ki dampener at play he could crush Vegeta’s windpipe easily, but Ederik seemed to prefer a slower death that let him get a little ranting in.

“You bastard! How dare you do that to my beautiful face!” Red blood dripped from Ederik’s ruined eye and Vegeta grinned, feral. Ederik moved to try grabbing Vegeta’s hands, presumably to pin them and keep Vegeta from causing any more damage, but Vegeta tangled his tail around the elbow of Ederik’s free arm, slowing him. Both hands still free, Vegeta reached for Ederik’s face again, conveniently close to him with Ederik bending to grip Vegeta’s neck.

Horror flashed across Ederick’s face, and he leaped backwards before Vegeta’s fingers could find purchase. Vegeta gulped a greedy lungful of air, unsure how long this reprieve would last. Ederik had the overwhelming advantage in strength with Vegeta’s ki locked away, and the only reason Vegeta was still breathing was Ederik’s lack of actual battle experience. How fortunate for Vegeta that Ederik had a bad habit of leaving the fighting to others in the landing party.

Still. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? 

Vegeta braced himself in a fighting stance, ready to exploit any openings, but Ederik had wised up enough to stop leaving them. He stood warily, ki swirling loosely around him, arms raised defensively in front of his face. Under normal circumstances Vegeta still could have picked out a dozen openings, hell, wouldn’t have even _needed_ openings to take down fucking Ederik, but these circumstances were not normal. 

The doors behind Ederik abruptly crashed inward, metal flying across the room. Vegeta ducked to avoid a blow to the head. Ederik, despite having the advantage of ki, had ridiculously slower reflexes, and caught a door to the back of his neck. He fell, coughing. 

“You.” Vegeta stared at the orange-garbed figure in the doorway. 

Goku stared back at him, relief crumpling his face. “Good thing you’re so tough, Vegeta.” 

Ederik rose to his feet, turning and trying to punch Goku. Looking bemused, Goku caught it easily, and took Ederik down with a simple chop to his neck.

“I could have fucking done that myself without this— this—,” Vegeta gestured his right arm wildly, shoving the ki dampener towards Goku’s face. 

That guilty expression again. “Yeah, I know.” Goku bent to slap an identical dampener around Ederik’s wrist, then cuffed his hands behind his back for good measure. 

“Why the hell wasn’t he wearing one of those before?” Vegeta edged closer, wondering if he could cross the ki barrier’s line in the floor before Goku noticed and reactivated it. There were no longer outer doors to worry about, after all.

Goku looked the grimmest that Vegeta had ever seen him. “We made a mistake.”

“No fucking shit.” 

Shaking himself slightly, Goku turned and studied Vegeta intently. “You’d better come to the med-bay and let ChiChi take a proper look at you.” 

What?

Goku stood, throwing Ederik’s unconscious body easily over one shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.” 

Was the fool really going to let Vegeta just walk out of here? But the ki dampener was still cold on Vegeta’s wrist, and he was kidding himself if he thought he’d be able to slip past Goku’s unhindered strength. 

His throat was starting to swell, and pain throbbed through his burned chest. Grimacing, he followed, the corridor cold under his bare feet compared to the cell’s warmer temperature. Goku paused at a different cell, opened it, then tossed Ederik inside before moving on. Vegeta noticed that he didn’t remove the cuffs holding Ederik’s arms behind his back. 

Anger lingered in the set of Goku’s shoulders. He fell back slightly, walking level with Vegeta, and glanced across to inspect him further. Vegeta folded his arms painfully across his chest, tried to ignore the stare prickling his skin.

“Bulma,” Vegeta started slightly, confused at Goku addressing the woman when he’d detected no one else’s scent with them, then relaxed when he realized Goku spoke into an earpiece. “I got Ederik wrapped up, he’s in cell 52.”

A pause, presumably while Bulma replied. Goku frowned. “Pretty sure I interrupted him in the middle of trying to murder Vegeta. Meet us in the med-bay?”

Another pause. Goku’s eyes flicked to Vegeta again, and he smiled, some of his usual warmth returning. “I think he’ll be okay. He’s pretty tough.”

Vegeta glowered. Condescending bastard. 

A set of wide double doors swished open in front of them. The medic woman turned from a work table, black hair piled into a tidy round shape atop her head. Earthling hair was weird.

“ChiChi, can you take a look at him?” Goku gestured to Vegeta, then frowned, turned to meet Vegeta’s eyes. “You’ll cooperate, yeah? I won’t let you harm her.” 

Behind the gentleness of Goku’s voice, there was a thread of steel. Vegeta hesitated, then nodded. He wouldn’t say no to an ice pack for his neck right now. Attacking a medic would be a low blow in any case.

“Over here then, please,” ChiChi gestured to an examination table, probably the same one Vegeta had occupied on his last visit. She frowned at him, taking in the damage from Ederik’s ki blast. “See if you can get that shirt off so I can take a proper look at that burn.”

Vegeta crossed the room and obediently sat on the examination table. He pulled the bloodied remains of the shirt off over his head, grimacing as pieces of it stuck against his burned chest. On ChiChi’s further direction, he turned to lie flat on the examination table. 

She scanned him with something, then he heard a sharp intake of breath. He glanced sideways in time to watch her cross the room, shoes clicking, to rummage in a cupboard. 

“Is he okay, ChiChi?” Why the fuck would Goku care?

“No, he is not remotely okay. Severe burns across half his chest, severe bruising and swelling at his throat, I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out from lack of oxygen.” ChiChi crossed the room again, placed something blissfully cool against Vegeta’s neck. His eyes closed involuntarily with relief. 

Fighting the soothing sensation, Vegeta wrenched his eyes back open and glared at them. “I wouldn’t be injured at all if you hadn’t slapped a fucking ki dampener on me in the first place.”

Goku flinched. “I know. I’m sorry. I wish it was my call to take it back off, but it isn’t.” 

ChiChi turned to Goku with a horrified expression. “No, Goku, it absolutely is not, heaven knows you can’t be trusted to make sensible decisions when it comes to fighting.”

Something stubborn twisted Goku’s mouth. “It worked out for the best in the end with Piccolo, didn’t it?”

“That is absolutely not,” ChiChi threw up her hands, and Vegeta had the impression that this was a long standing argument between two people who apparently knew each other very well, “that’s not the same at all, Goku.” 

The med-bay door hissed open again. He heard Bulma gasp. “Kami, are you alright?” 

Did he really look that bad? Why the fuck were they all acting so worried about him, had they just outright forgotten that he was their enemy? 

“He is absolutely not alright.” ChiChi started efficiently treating the ki burn that Ederik’s first attack had left. “Bulma, why don’t you tell us what this business is with Ederik?”

“Okay, well, we’re really fucked,” Bulma began immediately, catching Vegeta’s full attention. “I’m so sorry. We’ll have to call a team meeting soon, but,” she paused, sounding watery, “I wanted to run it by you two first.”

“Oh Bulma,” ChiChi’s voice was soothing, “I’m sure we’ll come up with something, how about you start by explaining.”

“I— Kami,” Bulma’s voice was breaking, “I just, it’s just, it’s so bad, fuck.” 

Was this related to Ederik? Vegeta really wished she’d say something useful while he still had a good excuse to be in the room.

“Okay,” Bulma took a deep breath, “okay, okay, it’s. The thing is. Ederik snuck into my lab and contacted PTO central and now they know there’s a resistance on Earth.”

Utter silence in the room. ChiChi, impressively, continued with her burn treatment. If Vegeta hadn’t just heard the death announcement for Earth’s resistance, he might have been tempted to join it on the quality of the medical team alone. 

“And also?” Bulma’s voice rose, confused, “he told the guy he was speaking to, Zarbon, that everyone else on the ship with him had betrayed the PTO and joined our resistance. That he had, um, been kidnapped and dragged here by them while they were, uh, betraying Lord Frieza?”

“He fucking _what?_ ” Vegeta tried to jolt upright but found himself held in place by ChiChi’s surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder. 

His head spun. Frieza didn’t take treachery lightly, and Zarbon had been looking for a good excuse to finish off the remaining band of Saiyans for years. They wouldn’t look for holes in Ederik’s report, wouldn’t allow any attempt at rebuttal or defense. If Vegeta and the others returned to the PTO, they’d be captured on sight, then executed in a painfully slow way as public examples to deter future would-be traitors.

“That fucking bastard,” Vegeta spat, glaring at the overhead lights that were the only thing in his field of vision, “that lying piece of shit.” 

“He _is_ a lying piece of shit,” Bulma agreed enthusiastically. 

Thrice damned Ederik. He probably saw this as poetic justice for Vegeta’s threat to murder him if they didn’t divert course to a place with atmosphere. He’d made the imagined charge of desertion stick through his own damned lies. 

Laughter bubbled through Vegeta, filled the room. All those years of toeing the line, bowing to Frieza, swallowing his disgust and remaining loyal to the PTO.

Useless. Broken by a backstabbing liar even when Vegeta had gritted his teeth and forced down his genuine desire to rebel, to oppose Frieza, to get the hell out of the suffocation of the PTO.

The choice had been made for him. 

“Congratulations,” Vegeta gasped into the shocked silence that lingered as he managed to swallow the rest of his laughter, “your little resistance just gained three Saiyans. Now take this fucking ki dampener off of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this wraps up Phase 1! Phase 2 is planned as another four chapter set, and should be updated weekly too.


	5. Taking Off: Preparation

They still hadn’t taken Vegeta’s ki dampener off. Goku shifted his weight unhappily. Glanced over at Vegeta, who was leaning against the wall with arms crossed. The Saiyan radiated barely contained fury, and Goku didn’t blame him. 

Tension filled the air of the meeting room. It was just the four of them, for now, but the others would be arriving any minute. Goku hoped they’d quickly vote to take the ki dampener off and induct Vegeta into the resistance in earnest. 

He trusted him a hell of a lot more than he’d trusted Ederik.

“Look,” Bulma was saying to Vegeta, “I get why you’re mad, but we just learned the hard way not to take promises at face value, and frankly you’re terrifying enough with your ki dampened.”

Vegeta glowered at her but kept his jaw clenched shut, muscles visibly bunched with the effort of it. He must be working pretty damn hard to keep that temper of his in check. 

At least he looked a lot better than when Goku had first steered him to the med-bay. ChiChi had patched him up and found a compact cooling compress that sat mostly flat against his throat under wrapping. Bulma had found a long-sleeved shirt with a high neck that partially covered the bandages, and Vegeta had briefly looked grateful when he pulled it on and hid most of the damage.

Goku was darkly pleased that Ederik had come out with the more permanent injuries from their skirmish, even though the blue coward had attacked someone wearing a ki dampener. He wasn’t going to share that thought with ChiChi and Bulma, especially not after how much ChiChi had yelled at him for not telling her about Ederik’s damaged eye sooner so she could treat it.

Vegeta’s hands and right wrist were wrapped in bandages too, but that damage hadn’t been from Ederik. 

Goku really, really hoped they could take the damn ki dampener off him soon.

“I’m here,” Krillin stumbled in the door, skidding slightly as he turned the corner into the room at a run, “what’s— gah!” 

“Krillin,” Goku smiled, moved so he stood closer to Vegeta, partly shielding Krillin from the Saiyan’s glare, “a lot happened, but basically, Vegeta’s ready to join the resistance.”

“Uh,” Krillin looked from Goku’s determined smile back to Vegeta’s furious expression, “great?”

“Dad!” Gohan rushed in the door, took in the scene with wide eyes, “is everything okay?”

“There’s a lot to figure out,” Goku hesitated, knowing Bulma would give the full story once everyone was assembled, “let’s not worry yet, okay?”

Gohan nodded, then looked nervously over Goku’s shoulder. Goku turned to find Vegeta staring intently at his son. Not good. Clearing his throat, Goku nudged Vegeta with his elbow, hoping to disrupt his focus. It worked, shifting Vegeta’s now irritated gaze back to Goku for a moment.

“Oh wonderful, another one,” Piccolo growled as he entered, “why not just bring all six of them, make it a party.”

Behind Goku, Vegeta snorted softly, sounding amused. 

“Well, about that,” Bulma fidgeted nervously, “or, well, I guess we’d better wait til everyone gets here.”

It felt like a long wait, though it probably wasn’t.

* * *

Bulma swallowed hard, looked around the assembled faces of her friends. 

She explained to them just how badly she’d fucked up.

The room was utterly silent for several moments, shock and horror plain on everyone’s face. Only her mother was still smiling, nervously sipping her tea. 

Earth was exposed now. Bulma needed to make this right. She needed to not be the reason that the PTO obliterated everything she cared about. 

She was never trusting a pretty face again.

“Now that we have seen just how badly trusting any supposed reform of these PTO monsters can go, why in the name of all the gods have we allowed another one into our confidence,” Piccolo finally snapped, accusing eyes on Vegeta. “Get him the hell out of here so we can figure out how to deal with the betrayal of the last one we trusted.”

Bulma winced, opened her mouth to speak, was cut off by Goku. “Vegeta’s different!”

“Different.” Piccolo stared at Vegeta, and Vegeta bared his teeth back. Wow, he was really bad at this ally thing. “I don’t care how different he is, right now we need emergency measures, dealing with this one is a waste of time.”

Vegeta glowered from where he leaned against the wall behind Goku. “You’ve picked a fine time to finally grow some common sense. A bit late, isn’t it?”

“A waste. Of. Time.” Piccolo scanned the room. “Does no one else see this?”

“He said he wanted to destroy the PTO,” ChiChi spoke up hesitantly. 

_”Well since your fuck-up has gotten us labeled as traitors,” Vegeta’s dark eyes bore into Bulma’s, “the least you can do is work with us to make the PTO’s lives so miserable that they have other priorities.”_

For once, Bulma didn’t speak. She didn’t think she had that right at the moment.

“Give us one good reason why we should trust you, or we’ll throw you back in that cell to rot.” Piccolo sounded utterly serious, and Bulma thought she caught Goku flinching at the idea.

* * *

They marched down Capsule Corp’s curved and white painted hallway, a strange procession. The Saiyan followed Bulma, Goku bouncing cheerfully at his heels and Krillin trailing behind. Gohan was tense next to Piccolo. There was little Piccolo could do to reassure him at present.

The Earth resistance had voted to free the Saiyan. Piccolo couldn’t comprehend this level of stupidity. No matter how much this latest PTO soldier claimed to want to leave.

He couldn’t believe he’d been part of it. Dangerous though the Saiyan seemed, his knowledge of the PTO was too tempting to pass up. On top of that, his hatred of the PTO seemed far less scripted than Ederik’s had.

_Vegeta snarled, tail bristling. “I have no love for the PTO. If I’d thought resistance was an option rather than a death sentence, I’d have left a long time ago.”_

The same thing Ederik had said, but Bulma’s hunt into the PTO files had confirmed that the Saiyan planet was in fact obliterated. Unlike the Emlisian home worlds, which remained actively trading with the PTO. Piccolo didn’t know how the hell no one had thought to check that. 

Why hadn’t he thought to check that? 

_Vegeta’s lip curled. “It was either serve Frieza, or die even sooner.”_

They had been taking the PTO far too lightly. Sloppy, casual treatment of prisoners. Piccolo had disposed of the first batch himself, to the outrage of the Earthlings, but he stood by that decision.

Today had been the first he’d learned that he was not an Earthling himself. 

_Vegeta growled in annoyance. “Just have one of your Namekians magic up a short truth spell or something, then, it will hardly be worse than this fucking ki dampener.”_

_“Namekians?” Bulma turned to Vegeta in confusion, then turned back to the computer and pulled up an image._

_A green face stared down at them, looking shockingly similar to Piccolo’s own._

In the space of a week, Piccolo and Gohan had both learned that they weren’t of this planet. Learning that had largely come courtesy of the Saiyan, not Ederik, though Ederik had surely had the same information at his fingertips. 

Talkative, these Saiyans. Piccolo wondered how much more information this one would have imparted as scathing commentary if they’d sat around the table debating his freedom for longer. In ten minutes of this Saiyan’s grumbling, they’d learned more than they had with five days of Ederik’s tittering advice. 

That still didn’t mean Piccolo trusted him. But Yamcha had called the vote so early, and Piccolo hadn’t been prepared to throw away this apparently rich resource. 

It had been plain, after all, that the Saiyan would outright become their enemy if they voted to keep his ki dampened.

* * *

_Bulma glanced at Vegeta with a small smile. “Ten white, seven black. We’re taking the ki dampener off.”_

Finally. Fucking finally, they’d voted to take the ki dampener off. So why didn’t they hurry up and _do_ it already.

_“White for accepting Vegeta into the resistance and removing his ki dampener, black for him staying prisoner.” ChiChi calmly instructed the table, as if the vote were something routine and meaningless._

Vegeta thought back to the mix of marbles on the table, and wondered who his seven new enemies were. The bastards who had voted to keep him suppressed. 

_Bulma stood. “We’ll just need to go down to my lab to do it.”_

_The younger Namekian made a strangled noise. “Taking a PTO soldier into your lab. What could possibly go wrong.”_

Vegeta grit his teeth, rage and fear simmering. The longer they took to remove the ki dampener, the more he wondered if they’d actually go through with it.

“Here we are!” Bulma cheerfully announced their arrival at her lab, ushered them in. It was huge, Vegeta noted, and messy, work in progress scattered across all visible surfaces, and a cacophony of screens and instruments. 

Threading her way through the surprising amount of debris on the floor, Bulma gestured for Vegeta to follow her to one of the machines. He paced over, practically vibrating with frustration at the slowness of the process.

“Sorry, I made it kind of complicated to take these things off.” She grabbed his right wrist, and he had to force himself not to snatch it back. Deftly, she guided his arm into an opening in the machine, then started tapping at buttons, apparently expecting him to stay still for the process. 

With an underwhelming click, the metal of the dampener split open, and it finally, finally fell from Vegeta’s wrist. He felt his strength rushing back, and relief left him nearly dizzy. 

Vegeta pulled his arm free of the machine and rubbed at his now bare wrist, rotating his hand. A grin spread across his face. Just to confirm that he could, Vegeta created a glowing ball of ki hovering above his palm, delighted that his energy responded with no apparent ill effects from prolonged imprisonment. 

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Bulma was looking at the collected blue sphere of ki, apparently not concerned that he was holding enough energy to vaporize her instantly. 

She was responsible for the agony of the ki dampener. Had jeered at his captivity, taunted his inability to leave. He could repay her tenfold for that suffering with the power he held now.

But to go against Frieza, they’d need a technician.

Vegeta reluctantly pulled the ki back into himself, dissipating the glow. 

“Alright,” Bulma looked expectantly at Vegeta, “we made good on our end, now it’s your turn. What should we look at next?”

Would they have just sat around on their asses if he hadn’t chosen to join them? 

_“How the hell have you lot managed to fool the PTO for seven years while being so utterly unaware of_ anything _?”_

_“Hey!” Bulma protested, “I know lots of things about agriculture and logistics! I had to prioritize.”_

_“Agriculture and logistics,” Vegeta let disbelief drip through his tone, “yes, that will do you wonderfully when Dodoria, or Zarbon, or the Ginyu force shows up. Soli forbid you have to contend with Frieza himself.”_

He couldn’t reconcile how easily they’d captured Vegeta’s landing party with their utter carelessness. Such fucking stupidity over Ederik. 

Their slip had cost Vegeta. He fully intended to use these Earthlings up to the last dregs to do as much damage to the PTO as he possibly could before Frieza’s fury came crashing down.

Vegeta kept his voice level, keeping up his helpful ally facade. “Someone will be headed our way on Frieza’s orders. We need to know who.” 

Bulma nodded, waited for him to continue. Vegeta started to lift a hand toward his face as he thought, realized his slip, and instead safely folded his arms again. “The best way would be to access the deployment orders.” 

That wouldn’t be easy. Deployments were genuinely sensitive information, carefully protected within the PTOs system. Bulma just nodded again then turned back to her computer array, quickly tapping at the keyboard. Her brow furrowed in concentration. Impenetrable lines of code flashed across the monitors surrounding her, but she somehow seemed able to parse it instantly.

“Okay!” She sat back, grinning in triumph. Vegeta stared at the central screen in shock. Impossibly, she had pulled up the full deployment list. 

“How the hell did you do that so fast?” 

She smirked at him. “Like I said, not just a pretty face.”

Clearly not. She’d made short of work a system that was, as far as Vegeta understood, among the most advanced in the galaxy. How was someone on a supposed backwater planet so skilled? 

There, a deployment to 340. Vegeta pointed, and Bulma obligingly pulled up the full file. The screen informed them that Dodoria and a handful of mid level goons were headed their way. 

Vegeta laughed, though it was all rather insulting. If Frieza truly believed Vegeta had turned traitor, what did he think Dodoria was going to do about it?

Though he’d been on a long string of missions without returning to a proper base for a full checkup. The lack of real medical care had been an irritation at the time, but it had likely left his power rating vastly out of date, which now seemed to be working in his favor. 

Goku glanced at Vegeta, grinned. “Hey, how about you let me take first crack at this Dodoria guy?”

Vegeta smirked back. “Be my guest.” It would have been satisfying to wring Dodoria’s fat neck himself, but this would be an excellent opportunity to observe Goku’s fighting. 

From what Vegeta had seen, Goku was significantly more powerful than Nappa and Raditz. Not something to be squandered if a fight with Frieza lay in the future, far fetched though victory would be. Vegeta would just have to keep an eye on him in case Dodoria proved to be a little too big a test. 

“When are they getting here?” Krillin asked nervously.

“Umm… estimate says whenever 5040-10-07 is,” Bulma read out. 

“Just convert it to local time,” Vegeta told her, sharply gesturing at the part of the screen where those controls sat.

“Oh my god, you can do that?” Unbelievable. How did she ever get anything done with such bizarre blind spots? 

How much havoc could they wreak with him and Raditz filling in for those blind spots? Enough to put up with a little more of the Earthlings’ stupidity, surely.

“Two weeks?” Krillin’s voice rose in a yelp as the screen updated its output, “that’s way too soon!”

“Naw, it’ll be fine!” Goku was clearly looking forward to his promised battle. Saiyan down to his bones, for all his Earth mannerisms. 

“The real problem will be whoever comes after Dodoria,” Vegeta warned them. He was in no hurry to face the Ginyu force just yet. 

They’d need a way to keep the PTO off their trail until they were strong enough to fight Frieza. With Bulma’s apparent technical ability, they might actually be able to pull something off and avoid immediate death at Frieza’s manicured hands.

* * *

Gohan swallowed hard, staying close to Piccolo. A green hand briefly squeezed his shoulder in reassurance before vanishing again.

_“Did you ever actually meet your brother, Goku?”_

_The bottom dropped out of Gohan’s stomach at Vegeta’s words._

_“Why in Kami’s name is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Bulma snapped._

_Gohan watched his father shrug apologetically. “I, uh, didn’t think it was important?”_

_Bulma tangled her hands in her hair and made a snarling, shrieking noise._

Gohan shifted his weight nervously, glanced over at his father who mostly looked bored. He couldn’t understand why his dad seemed so uninterested in meeting his brother. Gohan’s uncle. 

There had been plenty of times when Gohan thought it would be nice if his family was just a little bit bigger, but this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. These PTO people weren’t the kind of family he wanted.

“Honestly Goku, I can’t believe you were just going to ignore it,” Bulma muttered yet again. Gohan watched his father grin and shrug apologetically. Vegeta smirked, apparently amused to see them arguing. 

From what Gohan could see, Vegeta looked terrifying and cold, and he couldn’t understand why Bulma and his father trusted him so much, let alone how he’d convinced Bulma to take the ki dampeners off the other two Saiyans.

He was just glad that Vegeta hadn’t done anything with that big ball of ki other than look at it for a bit. Gohan had been terrified that he’d hurt Bulma.

Even so, Gohan didn’t like the idea of keeping him locked up. He wondered who the seven were that had. 

Well, the point of an anonymous vote was that no one knew after how you’d chosen. Gohan should stop thinking about it. Gohan just hoped his own vote hadn’t been a mistake. There had been so little time to think, and the news about Ederik’s betrayal had made any new allies seem both terrifying and like a lifeline.

The lab’s doors hissed open to reveal Krillin and Yamcha standing either side of a huge man with enough hair to bury Gohan entirely. He had a tail, kept wrapped around his waist. 

Just like the tail Gohan used to have.

“Raditz,” Vegeta spoke out as the new arrival glanced curiously around the lab, “over here.”

Raditz crossed the room without hesitation. He looked used to following Vegeta’s commands. 

Gohan edged closer to his father, glanced up to see a serious expression had replaced his dad’s usual easy smile. Maybe his dad was nervous about meeting this new, maybe family, person after all.

Ki expanded as Raditz’s dampener dropped off, but it was tiny compared to Vegeta’s ki, or even Krillin’s. Gohan was surprised, even though he’d remembered Raditz having a small ki that first day. Maybe Raditz wasn’t so scary after all. Maybe he wasn’t as murderous as some of the PTO.

“These are our allies now,” Vegeta told Raditz, and Gohan thought maybe he should have said that before the dampener came off, “treat them accordingly.” 

Raditz grinned, looking relaxed, nowhere near as cold as Vegeta seemed. “Sure.” He turned to scan the room again, then his eyes caught on Gohan’s father and widened. 

“Kakarot?” 

Gohan tensed. It looked like Raditz recognized his dad. But that couldn’t be. His dad was from Earth, wasn’t he?

* * *

It had to be. He looked so much like their father. Raditz abruptly felt very homesick, a feeling he thought he’d left behind long ago. He’d guessed that Kakarot was here, but seeing him like this was still jarring. 

“That isn’t my name,” Kakarot objected, “my name is Son Goku.”

Raditz glanced back at Vegeta in confusion. Vegeta spread his hands slightly, flicking his tail. He had no idea what that was about either. 

“Did you hit your head or something?” Raditz couldn’t think of another goddamn explanation for this. He felt heavy somehow, with his brother’s lack of recognition. 

“Yeah, actually, when I was a baby,” Kakarot raised a hand to his head, then glared, “what does that have to do with anything?”

Raditz and Vegeta exchanged a glance, and Vegeta shrugged. Unfeeling asshole.

“That must be why you don’t remember your name. You must have knocked out all the programming.” Everything about this stung. Raditz had found his little brother after all this time, but the bastard didn’t even have the decency to remember his own name, let alone anything else about their people.

Vegeta turned to Raditz abruptly. _”Frieza has branded us traitors.”_

It took Raditz a moment to realize that Vegeta had spoken in their native Sadalan, the Saiyan language that Frieza had forbidden use of after their planet’s destruction. Then then full implications of what Vegeta had just said sunk in, and Raditz sucked in an alarmed breath. 

“What did you just say,” a weirdly green Earthling snapped. 

“That Frieza has branded us traitors,” Vegeta repeated in Galactic Standard. Something the Earthlings already knew, from the sound of it. 

Raditz and Vegeta both glanced at Kakarot, who looked frustrated. He hadn’t understood his own language, then. The heavy, cold feeling settling over Raditz intensified. 

“We should free Nappa next.” Vegeta addressed this to the blue-haired woman, who nodded. The green man grimaced, clearly not liking the idea. 

“Then after that, we start planning for real.” The woman smiled, looking surprisingly violent for such a delicate creature. 

Raditz glanced back at his disappointment of a brother. Kakarot had been watching him sidelong, but looked away instead of meeting Radtiz’s eyes.

Talk about a shitty reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Earth year is 2.3 Cold years. The Earth and Saiyan groups are using the same word, but they’re referring to different lengths of time. Same with minutes and hours.


	6. Taking Off: Calibration

Bulma eyed the three Saiyans warily. Four, she supposed, including Goku.

She wasn’t sure she was ready to include Goku.

Nappa and Raditz had arranged themselves looming either side of Vegeta, as if they were guarding him. From what she understood of their power levels, that was a ridiculous notion. Though Vegeta did look the least threatening of the three, especially wearing casual clothing while the others were still in their armor. 

_”They’ll listen to me.” Utter conviction in Vegeta’s tone._

_“What are you, royalty or something?” Unbelievable. Bulma was not just going to go around taking ki dampeners off at the drop of a hat._

_“Yes,” infuriatingly, Vegeta rolled his eyes, “I am royalty, did you not read_ any _of our files?”_

She had, in fact, read all of their files many times over. He might be Saiyan Prince, but Vegeta’s file had been edited at some point so that it no longer reflected that. For a moment there when she pulled the file up to prove it, he’d almost looked hurt. 

Goku had insisted that really the other two weren’t that dangerous anyway, and wouldn’t it be nice to have more allies? 

It was, Bulma had to admit, pretty damn nice to have more allies. Smart ones, too, despite their appearance and the unflattering stereotypes plastered all over the PTO file on the Saiyan species at large.

If only she’d directed the same attention to Ederik’s files. Paid more attention to the rest of the PTO’s power dynamics. Ederik was from the same planet as this Zarbon guy, part of Frieza’s inner circle. 

She’d fucked up so bad. Ruined three years of subterfuge with a couple days of carelessness. How the hell had Ederik hacked into her communications array so easily? She hadn’t been expecting that from a fighter. She’d expected her tech to keep them safe, more reliable than her judgement of people ever was.

Bulma was going to fix this if it was the last thing she did. 

The plan she’d concocted with the Saiyans over the past few days relied heavily on her technical expertise, pooled with the Saiyans’ knowledge of the PTO’s inside workings. It was brilliant, and she couldn’t _wait_ to get out there and start fucking shit up.

It was the least she could do after her monumental lapse of judgement.

“Are you sure we can’t just smack this Frieza guy around a bit and be done with?” Goku again, speaking to Vegeta across the table. Bulma glanced over to see various expressions of horror spreading across the faces of all three Saiyans. 

“Yes, Kakarot, I am sure,” before she met Vegeta, Bulma had thought that describing someone’s tone as incredulous was just overkill. No longer. 

Goku glared, uncharacteristically grumpy. He had seemed pretty put out ever since Vegeta switched to calling him by his Saiyan name instead of his regular one. 

“Just how stupid _are_ you,” Raditz added, staring at Goku, “do you have an actual death wish?”

The door opened as the rest of the Earth’s Resistance started to spill in for their tactical meeting. Bulma hoped this wouldn’t take too long. She only had about ten days to build their tech before Dodoria’s arrival, and her fingers itched to get started.

* * *

Vegeta drummed his fingers against the meeting table. The Earthlings took so fucking long to decide _anything_.

Raditz shot him a pointed look, and Vegeta grimaced, stilled his hand. He needed to look omniscient right now, not fidgety. 

“I just don’t like it,” Yamcha was protesting for the hundredth time, “Bulma, you can’t possibly trust these, these,” he gestured vaguely at the trio of Saiyans, “there’s no way you can trust them enough to be stuck on a spaceship with them for Kami knows how long!”

“Relax, Yamcha,” Bulma rolled her eyes, “I’ll have Goku and Krillin with me too. We’ll be fine.”

Vegeta didn’t see why Yamcha got a say in any of this. His power level was ridiculously low, and he didn’t have any other apparent uses. Unlike Bulma, whose technological expertise would be key to their plan to damage the PTO.

He glanced across the table at Kakarot. The younger Saiyan was also restless, struggling to sit still and shooting hopeful glances at the blue sky outside the window. 

Dodoria would be here soon. The perfect chance for Vegeta to see just how useful Kakarot’s strength could really be. But even if Kakarot exceeded all expectations, they’d be fools to face Frieza head on now. 

_Frieza’s cool gaze pinned him. Vegeta struggled to keep his expression neutral, carefully focusing on the floor just short of Frieza’s hovering throne._

_“Do explain to me, Mr Vegeta,” he hated that threatening politeness, “how it is that three Saiyan warriors were unable to purge one little planet. Has your battle prowess been so exaggerated?”_

_That little planet had turned out to harbor stunningly powerful warriors. Nappa and Raditz had barely lasted long enough to be dragged back to the healing tanks. Vegeta was still dizzy with blood loss, forced to come give this farce of a mission report before having time to recover._

_He gazed at the cold metal floor, listening to Dodoria’s sniggering from behind Frieza’s throne, and wondered if Frieza had wanted any of them to come back at all._

Raditz had quietly told them a few years back that PTO rumors had Frieza’s power at over 1 million. Vegeta thought of the rare times Frieza used his strength directly, casually flattening armies that had been particularly irritating, delightedly pulling limbs from those accused of treachery, and decided it was best to proceed on the assumption that those rumors were accurate.

“Besides,” Bulma was insisting to Yamcha and Tien, who both looked grim, “messing with the PTO by going after their tech sounds _fun_.”

Vegeta watched with narrowed eyes, wondering if those two were some of the bastards who had cast black marble votes.

“Right?” Raditz spoke up, grinning lazily, ignoring the glaring Earthlings, “the PTO can be pretty damn sloppy. They’re practically asking for a virus or two.”

“Once I’m in one of those bases, they’ll have so many new problems they won’t even be thinking about Earth,” Bulma waved her hands excitedly, “besides, even if they do remember the Earth’s badass resistance, they’ll be so busy chasing us through space that they won’t even have time to come after the rest of you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about!” Yamcha’s voice cracked with distress. Pathetic. “Bulma, you’re setting yourself up to have an entire army of maniacs chasing you personally. Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?”

Bulma rolled her eyes again, more interested in whatever she was looking at on her tablet. Vegeta was privately relieved that her sense of self-preservation was so haphazard. Yamcha wasn’t wrong, but Vegeta didn’t give a shit if Bulma did eventually get caught, tortured, killed, so long as she fulfilled her purpose first. 

If they’d been able to hack into the PTO’s systems, remove the tracking from the ships, the three Saiyans could have made a move against Frieza far sooner. Now that they had a technician capable of doing that, he intended to make full use of her.

* * *

The door to Ederik’s cell swished open in front of ChiChi. She gripped her medical bag tighter as she crossed the threshold. 

He was sitting on the bed, elbows braced on knees, hair loose and disheveled. When he turned to her, she shivered. There was something crazy in his remaining eye.

“Ah my benefactor,” he spread his arms wide, grin loose, “the most kind and generous of Earthlings, **who still couldn’t save my fucking eye**.”

The barrier rippled as he punched it, teeth bared. ChiChi kept her expression neutral. 

“When you’re ready, I’d like to come in there and check that there are no further complications.” Not to check if it was healing well. She’d learned the first time to avoid that particular phrase.

He stepped back, bowed mockingly. “Please, enter my humble domain.” 

It was her job as a medic to help everyone, ChiChi reminded herself as she lowered the barrier and crossed the threshold. Even enemies, no matter how disturbing they were.

Despite Ederik’s repeated insistence that Saiyans were animals, ChiChi couldn’t help but note that all three of their Saiyan captives had been significantly more cooperative when dealing with a medic. 

Ederik stared at her while somehow looking right past her. “If you treat me very very nicely, I might just put in a good word for you with my Lord Zarbon when he arrives.”

“That would be very kind of you,” ChiChi allowed, carefully beginning to remove his bandages. It seemed Ederik wasn’t fully aware of who would be coming to Earth.

“Those Saiyans, on the other hand,” Ederik’s face twisted under her hands, and ChiChi fought to keep her motions steady, “I look forward to watching Frieza rend them limb from limb.”

ChiChi hoped that was a figure of speech, particularly since Ederik had started including Goku in his most recent Saiyan counts. But she wasn’t entirely sure.

* * *

Goku added another cut of meat to the tarp where he was laying his butchering. He might not be on Earth for that much longer, but he still had a week or so of meals here, and prep work made it nicer at dinner time.

_”We need proof,” Piccolo snapped at Vegeta and Raditz, “of these wild claims you keep making about Goku.”_

_Vegeta looked annoyed. Goku was still adjusting to the thrum of his unrestrained ki, power seeming to fill the room._

_Raditz spoke first. “Look up Bardock.”_

_Goku’s heart sank as Bulma pulled up the file on the screen. He heard Gohan, Krillin, and Bulma gasp._

_A face that looked almost like his own stared back at him, topped with an identical mess of hair. The only difference was a cross-shaped scar on the left side of his jaw, and a mean expression._

This Bardock had to be the one Cala had mentioned. Goku hated it. Hated that he shared the same face as a man who purged planets. Hated that Vegeta and the other two Saiyans now insisted on calling him by the name of Bardock’s second son, Kakarot.

His name was Goku. He didn’t want anything to do with being Saiyan.

The last of the meat was carved now. Goku moved on to wrapping the cuts in butcher paper and string before carrying them into the house to stow in the fridge. 

A ki was approaching. Low, but with the wild edge that Goku now associated with Saiyans. Raditz.

Goku had been getting on just fine without a brother. He didn’t see why he needed one now, especially not one who’d served Frieza up until last week. Allies were all well and good, but family was a different matter. 

He was rinsing his hands off in the sink when Raditz touched down outside, mane of hair swinging as he landed. 

For supposed brothers, they sure didn’t look much alike. Though the gi that Raditz had adopted helped. Green shirt over black pants instead of Goku’s preferred head to toe red. 

“Yo, Kakarot!” Raditz called out cheerfully, looking around. Goku watched through the window. He didn’t want to answer to that name.

How had Raditz even found him out here? Maybe he’d finally picked up ki sensing. It had been about a week since the three Saiyans learned that was possible, after all. 

Vegeta had scoffed and said that if Goku could do it, then it couldn’t be that hard. Goku respected his strength, but his attitude sure could be grating. 

Tipping his head, Raditz seemed to concentrate on something. His head jerked and his eyes darted to Goku, spotting him though the window. Looked like he really did have that ki sensing figured out. 

Goku headed him off in the doorway, blocking it by leaning against the frame. Wished he’d worn red today. “Looking for me, Raditz?”

“Ah, there you are, the resident disappointment.” Raditz grinned. 

Well that was an annoying thing to be called.

“Did you need something?” Goku kept his tone mild.

“What, I can’t stop by to visit my baby brother?” Raditz crossed his arms behind his head as he came to a stop in front of Goku. It was irritatingly similar to some of Goku’s own postures. 

“I told you already, I don’t need a brother.” 

“Harsh, man.” Raditz raised an eyebrow, and Goku struggled not to glare. “Is that any way to treat family?”

“I don’t want the kind of family that goes around murdering people.” It was getting really, really hard to keep his tone level.

Raditz rolled his eyes, dropping his arms to throw his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Oh, how silly of me, I should have realized that the high and mighty Son Goku was too good to be related to anyone with the bad luck _not_ to get shipped off our home planet to a Tor-damned paradise.”

“That’s—,” that hurt, actually. Would Goku have turned out just like the rest of them, if he hadn’t had the good fortune to be sent to Earth?

“You owe mom and dad one hell of a ‘thank you’.” Raditz folded his arms to glare. Goku fidgeted, suddenly guilty. Maybe Raditz would have liked it more if their parents had sent him here, instead of Goku. If Goku was actually Kakarot, which he wasn’t agreeing to still. 

“Do you,” Goku hesitated, shifting his weight, “do you want to come in?”

Raditz blinked at him, apparently surprised by the invitation, then shrugged. Goku ducked back into the kitchen, started water for tea. It was polite, ChiChi had always insisted, to serve tea to guests. 

“Huh.” Raditz stood in the doorway, his height and hair filling it completely, “you have all this space to yourself?”

“Well, ChiChi and Gohan used to live here too, but now ChiChi lives in the city, and Gohan only comes half the week.” Goku’s words spilled out faster than he meant. It felt weird, having his supposed brother standing in his house. 

Raditz wandered around the living room while Goku crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, wishing the water would boil faster. He watched as Raditz leaned over to inspect a family photo of him and Gohan with ChiChi and OxKing. Something weird was happening to Raditz’s face. It stopped before Goku could figure out what it was, and Raditz moved on to the bookshelves, still stocked with things that Gohan enjoyed. 

The water boiled. Goku poured it into the teapot, turned holding that and some mugs, to find Raditz running a hand over one of the rough wooden chairs at the table. His face was doing that weird thing again. 

Goku set things on the table loud enough to clatter, and Raditz jumped slightly. 

“Do you not have furniture like this at the PTO?” Goku plopped into a chair, continuing to feel weird about this whole interaction.

“Not like this.” Raditz sighed. “Mostly metal, plastic. Haven’t seen stuff like this since back home.”

This was the third time in as many minutes that he’d done that weird thing with his face. Goku was coming up with some theories, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about them.

“You mean your home planet?” 

Raditz frowned. “Yeah. Yours too, you know.”

“Why just me?” Goku spilled the question without any planning.

The thing was happening to Raditz’s face again, and Goku was pretty sure he was homesick, or nostalgic, or something. It made it hard to think of him as a murderous asshole.

“They called me right after they sent you.” Raditz dropped into the chair finally, took a mug of tea when Goku pushed it at him, “Dad had a really bad feeling, and they decided to get you off the planet.”

“But why not send you with me? If we’re brothers.”

Raditz glared at him. “You still don’t fucking believe me, even after seeing the picture of dad?” He sighed, rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I was already off planet, on a mission. Saved me from dying with the planet, left me stuck with Frieza. End of story.”

Goku turned his mug on the table, turned it back. Vegeta had said that he only served Frieza because he wanted to keep living. Raditz sounded the same. “Would you have chosen it? The PTO?”

Horror crossed Raditz’s face. “Fuck no, it’s hellish.” A grimace. “Not that anyone on our planet had a choice. Our King signed us up to work with Frieza rather than be annihilated, and we just had to go along with it.”

That sounded really bad. Goku squirmed in his seat. He’d been really, really lucky then, for his parents to send him somewhere nice like Earth. 

“I guess I do owe a thank you, then,” the surface of the tea was smooth as he watched it, avoiding Raditz’s eyes, “to mom and dad.”

Was he agreeing, with this? To having a brother, to having a name that wasn’t Goku. He wasn’t sure still.

“Well,” Goku glanced back up, thought there was something tired about the set of Raditz’s face while he spoke, “they’d be happy enough just to know you’ve been doing so well, here.”

His parents sounded nice, Goku thought. Not very much like the image he’d been piecing together hearing about purges, since seeing Cala’s face when she’d thought he was Bardock.

Cala hadn’t seemed to hate Raditz. Krillin had seemed to think Raditz wasn’t so bad either, after he’d been taking him meals during his captivity.

Maybe he could give a little more thought to this having a brother thing. 

Raditz took a sip of the tea, blinked at it. “This coffee is weird.”

Goku smiled, and it came easily. “That’s ‘cos it’s tea. Different thing.”

“Huh,” another sip, “this ain’t bad either.” 

They had another week or so, before they headed off planet. Might be worth spending a little more time talking to Raditz before then after all. Goku glanced around the room, gaze lingering on the photos. 

He could try, at least. To see what treating his maybe brother as family felt like.

* * *

Zarbon frowned at the console, then consciously smoothed his brow. It wouldn’t do to get wrinkles from this.

It was perplexing, however, that Ederik had still not made his promised repeat contact. 

Something must have prevented him from doing so. Zarbon sat back and crossed his legs neatly at the knee. Ederik was not much of a fighter, but his technological skills were impressive. Coupled with his ability to avoid most battles, it had made him the perfect tool to keep an eye on the Saiyans. 

He’d also been able to sweet talk the resistance on Planet 340 into describing most of their subterfuge. Even then, Zarbon’s technical team on base had been unable to determine how the fabricated information had been inserted into their main systems, had been unable to assure him that it wouldn’t happen again. 

It would be better to avoid telling Frieza about this until he had a solution prepared. 

Seven years they had thought Planet 340 under their control, had their records assuring them that resources from it were making their way to the PTO’s stocks. Upon careful inspection, the shipments fragmented and vanished mid-transit, but always in such a way that it appeared they had simply been offloaded in small parts. Each deck where they supposedly offloaded correctly registered the addition to the warehouse, but Zarbon had several of them checked and the warehouses were fractionally short. Never enough to notice, without careful inspection. Things always went missing, after all.

Who had created such a precise plan reliant on this fragile balance of computer system weaknesses and shoddy ground staff? Ederik had been vague about that, saying that the initial information must be incorrect and he would search further.

The sooner Dodoria collected their traitorous Saiyans and stamped out Planet 340’s resistance, the better. It was difficult to relax knowing that a team capable of exploiting the weaknesses in their systems to this extent was acting against them.

Fortunately, no one on Planet 340 seemed smart enough to put these skills to actual use. Zarbon smiled. It was their misfortune that they’d only managed to convert a bunch of stupid monkeys to their cause. If a more advanced race had defected, the PTO might have had something to worry about.

* * *

They were laughing. Laughing and rolling around in the grass. Something that Kakarot had called a ‘tickle fight’. 

Raditz shook his head, leaning back against the tree to watch his disappointment of a brother.

And nephew. What the fuck was he supposed to do with a nephew?

Kakarot, the lucky bastard. Growing up here on this peaceful planet and raising a family without a care in the world. Was that how he’d ended up so _nice?_ Raditz didn’t get it. He’d been annoying as fuckall to his brother, and Kakarot had just shrugged it off and kept smiling. 

Offered him tea. Welcomed him in.

_”Here.” Kakarot’s face continued to be unbearably soft as he scooped up a book, placed it on the table in front of Raditz. Flipped a few pages. “This is Gohan when he was little. Isn’t he adorable?”_

He was still adorable. It wasn’t right, for someone with Saiyan blood to be that adorable. Raditz was never going to tell either one of them.

“Uncle Raditz!” Gohan had separated himself from his father. Had he won the tickle fight? Kakarot still lay on the ground, laughing so hard he was holding his sides. 

How was he so soft and unguarded while also being strong enough to take down Vegeta? Even if Vegeta had been injured, that was some stupid strength Kakarot was hiding there.

“Yeah? What’s up, kid?” Raditz lifted an eyebrow at his grinning nephew.

“Want to come help me catch fish?” Gohan asked warmly, “Dad lost the tickle fight, so he gets to gather the wood this time.”

This was a pattern? “Sure thing,” Raditz pushed himself away from the tree, tugging his hair free of the rough bark, “fish sounds delicious.”

“It _is_ delicious!” Kakarot had recovered, rolled into a seated position. Hair all over the place, grinning madly.

They were going to die. Raditz didn’t know what fluke had let Kakarot beat Vegeta, but Dodoria would stamp him out. Best not to get attached. It was a coin toss whether Vegeta would lift a hand to help any of them. 

“C’mon, this way!” Gohan grabbed Raditz by the hand, dragged him in a direction that probably had fish. He was so tiny. Just a kid. Never mind that Raditz had already been purging planets himself when he was smaller still.

_”Kakarot, I’m serious,” Raditz frowned at his brother over the apparently never ending supply of tea, “Dodoria’s no joke. Sure he looks stupid and round, but he’s deadly. You can’t keep underestimating him like this.”_

_“Naw,” Kakarot grinned, excited, an idiot with his bloodlust up, “it’ll be a fun challenge, I can finally test my strength properly.”_

Raditz might just strangle him before Dodoria got to him. He didn’t find his brother after all these years just to watch the idiot get himself killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Earth year is 2.3 Cold years. The Earth and Not-Earth groups are using the same word, but they’re referring to different lengths of time. Same with minutes and hours.


	7. Taking Off: Clearance

Bulma looked at her viewscreen and wrapped her hands tighter around her coffee cup to still her trembling.

“Goku. He’ll be landing any minute now.”

“Thanks, Bulma,” Goku sounded cheerful, no trace of fear at the powerful enemy headed his way. 

Bringing friends, even. Bulma’s tracking array showed a mid-size ship landing, scattered with about 20 life signs. Dodoria’s power level stood out at 24,000, but many of the others weren’t small either, several topping 10,000. 

This would be a really good time for their new allies to show their stuff. 

Zaril tentatively patted her shoulder with a clawed hand. “They’ll be fine, Bulma. Dodoria’s not all that big a deal.” 

_Compared to Vegeta_ hung unspoken in the air. Bulma had clocked their new friend’s power level at 26,000. Couple that with his viciousness, and he’d have no trouble taking Dodoria.

The thing that scared her was that Goku was the one fighting that battle.

“We’re in position.” Cala’s voice came cool through the comms. So tall and level headed. Bulma might be developing a bit of a crush. Cala certainly seemed like a more reliable team player than any of the Saiyans. 

She was glad they’d let the final two warriors out of their cells and dampeners. They’d been genuine in their hatred of the PTO, unlike Ederik.

_”Now that I think about it,” Kami looked puzzled as he examined his hands clasped on the table, “a truth spell does feel like something I could create.”_

They’d tested it out on some of their own team members. It couldn’t force anyone to tell the truth, but it would glow red if the subject lied. At least it had confirmed that the Saiyans were genuine in their intent to cooperate. 

They’d need all the help they could get. Not just to deal with Dodoria, but for what came after.

* * *

Vegeta squinted into the sun. He could sense Dodoria’s ki approaching, muddled with many smaller ones. 

It would start soon. 

Nappa shifted his weight, grunted. Standing steadily behind Vegeta’s right shoulder as he had since Vegeta was a child. “They’ll be here soon.”

“I can see that.” Vegeta had long outgrown any need for Nappa’s strategy advice. 

Kakarot stood farther away along the cliff face, expression calm and orange clothing ridiculous as always. Soon Vegeta would be able to see what he was really made of.

_“I’m not wearing fucking PTO issue armor when I’m not in the PTO anymore,” Raditz growled in their native Sadalan, waving his hands, “I don’t want to wear Frieza’s goddamn labeling one second longer”. Vegeta was forced to concede that he raised a fair point._

So now Vegeta wore a blue Earth-style tunic over the bottom half of one of his black long sleeved PTO under suits. He’d kept his gloves.

“Damn annoying that you Saiyans can all pick up ki sensing.” Cala fiddled with her Earth-scouter, new technology courtesy of Bulma that contained no risk of PTO trackers or audio pickup. 

Vegeta smirked. “We’re a superior people, after all.”

Cala just snorted, earning a growl from Nappa. 

A dark speck appeared against the Earth’s yellow sun. The PTO forces were landing.

* * *

Goku shivered. He could feel an immense power on the approaching ship, almost as large as Vegeta’s. When Vegeta wasn’t dampening his power, which he currently was.

This was going to be a good fight.

Krillin glanced sideways at him, worried. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Goku.”

“Me too.” Goku grinned. It felt sharp. Krillin just shook his head.

It probably would have made more sense to leave this Dodoria to Vegeta. Sense had never been Goku’s strong point.

* * *

Yamcha glared at the Saiyans. The three of them stood apart from Earth’s fighters, on a cliff with that purple alien. He couldn’t believe Bulma had let herself be talked into freeing them all.

Hadn’t they learned from Ederik just how bad an idea it was to trust these PTO bastards? 

The best case scenario saw today ending with Bulma leaving Earth trapped on a spaceship with those monsters. He was terrified for her. 

Yamcha glanced back at Goku. His old friend was watching the approaching ship with an almost predatory grin on his face, looking nothing like the cheerful carefree man Yamcha knew. 

What had that Raditz bastard been doing to him? 

The ugly round ship landed and started spilling out warriors with terrifyingly high power levels. Yamcha stopped having time to worry about what their so-called allies might be getting up to.

* * *

Goku intercepted the round pink alien. “I’ll be your opponent today.”

“Hah.” Dodoria sneered at him. His face seemed made for it. “Bardock’s spawn. You think a low-class monkey will even slow me down?”

Smiling, Goku kicked his kaioken into gear, noticing the suddenly racing numbers on Dodoria’s scouter. The sneer disappeared. 

All this nonsense about class and monkeys. It was starting to wear Goku out. Maybe that’s why Raditz seemed tired all the time. 

Goku lunged forward, aiming to kick Dodoria’s head. An arm blocked his kick, solid but without finesse. Dodoria’s returned punch was equally graceless, but had enough power behind it to slam Goku backward even though he’d got his arms up in time to block. Grimacing, Goku took his kaioken up a notch. Times four. His upper limit, unless he wanted to damage himself as much as his opponent. 

He was really being pushed in this battle. The small smirk on Goku’s face spread wider. This was exactly the kind of test he’d wanted.

Goku just hoped he passed it.

* * *

Vegeta snapped the neck of the hapless grunt who’d had the audacity to enter his range. The body fell to the ground with a boring thud. 

This wasn’t much of a battle at all. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to let Kakarot have all the fun. 

Behind him, he felt Kakarot’s ki shoot impossibly higher. Still short of Vegeta’s own, but nonetheless impressive for the son of a third-class warrior. Kakarot’s strength far outstripped that of Nappa, and of any other elite Saiyans Vegeta could remember. Only Vegeta himself surpassed him.

That kind of strength could be useful against Frieza indeed.

* * *

Nappa barely dodged his enemy’s ki blast. The fighters that Frieza had sent to Earth were no joke, by the PTO’s standard. His Prince looked bored, but that was to be expected with Vegeta.

What wasn’t expected was Kakarot’s power. 

The next two ki blasts Nappa flung in retaliation both missed his opponent. Even though Nappa had the lower ki of the two, he should have been able to beat this enemy without so much struggle. He was a Saiyan elite, after all.

Perhaps this would be the day that Raditz’s luck ran out, after his long streak of surviving battles he was thoroughly outclassed in.

Or perhaps he’d unlock stupid amounts of ki like his little brother had, like rumors had whispered towards the end that his father had, and Nappa would have to rethink the reliance that the PTO had grown in him on power levels measured at birth. That fixed assessment of potential had never been the old way.

His enemy went down in a smoldering heap, struck by a ki blast Nappa hadn’t thrown. Vegeta darted past to his next target, clearly having already lost interest again in Nappa’s battle, and the mix of relief and shame sat heavy in Nappa’s stomach.

* * *

Goku’s shoulder burned. Dodoria’s ki blast had seared him badly. There was no pause in the attack, and Goku darted and blocked as Dodoria launched punch after heavy punch at him, many with ki wrapped visibly around his fists. More burns collected along Goku’s forearms as he blocked.

He couldn’t keep this up. 

Ducking and zipping backwards bought him enough space to catch a breath, take stock, launch a targeted ki blast. Dodoria batted it away, contemptuous. For all his clumsy movements, he was hard to damage. Goku had the advantage in speed and agility, but if he couldn’t land a solid hit he was just going to end up worn down to dregs. Then Dodoria would have him.

There was no time to gather energy for a Spirit Bomb. Dodoria wouldn’t allow him the time.

Goku dodged, weaved, as ki spheres hailed down on him. He avoided taking any more damage, but sooner or later one of Dodoria’s big hits would land. It would only take one slip.

Kaioken times four this entire time was wearing him down too. Goku had wanted to test first hand if he could take even the weakest of the warriors that Vegeta had warned them were Frieza’s big guns. 

He had his answer, but he didn’t like it.

The communicator sat heavy on his ear. Goku could, in theory, use it to contact Vegeta and ask him to take over this fight.

There was no way in hell Goku was going to do that. Not as long as he could still move.

* * *

Gohan watched his father fighting the pink enemy, and felt fear sink through his stomach.

His dad was the strongest person he knew, but his dad was losing.

“Focus, Gohan!” Piccolo’s voice snapped Gohan’s attention back to his own battle in time to deflect the enemy’s kick. Gohan chopped his attacker in the neck, knocking out the fuzzy green alien. He bent to slap a ki dampener on the enemy’s wrist.

Vegeta appeared from nowhere to land on the enemy’s throat, boot fatally snapping the green neck.

“You didn’t have to do that!” Gohan balled his hands into fists, glared up at Vegeta. 

Vegeta snorted. “You’re too soft to be on a battle-field, half-breed.”

Gohan bit his tongue as Vegeta flew off to murder someone else. These PTO people had been Vegeta’s allies a few weeks ago. How could he kill them so casually?

After the battle today, Gohan’s mom and dad would be stuck on a spaceship with Vegeta. So would Gohan’s friends, and his uncle who was actually pretty nice. Could they really trust Vegeta not to dispose of his new allies just as quickly if it turned out to be convenient? 

“Gohan!” Piccolo dragged his attention back to the battlefield again, and Gohan grimaced and went to save Yamcha.

* * *

The Earthlings were too soft. Disgusting. Even Kakarot’s child, half Saiyan, didn’t have the stomach to finish off his enemies. 

Vegeta cleaned up another one of their mistakes, growling. Why had they insisted on delaying their departure until after defeating Dodoria’s pathetic team if they weren’t even going to finish the job?

They could have been away from here by now, already damaging Frieza’s coveted empire, if the Earthlings hadn’t been so insistent on staying to protect their little mudball from the troops that they already knew were approaching.

Ki flared, and Vegeta heard Kakarot grunt with pain. Saiyan hearing could pick up all sorts of details across a battlefield.

Vegeta would have to step in soon, if he wanted to keep this newest asset. Kakarot hadn’t asked Vegeta to bail him out yet. Stupidly soft Kakarot might be, but Vegeta could grudgingly respect his stubbornness and his warrior’s spirit.

Nappa and Raditz had finally chosen to largely remove themselves from fighting the remaining handful of enemies rather than continue their embarrassing display. Vegeta had lost track of how many times he’d had to bail the idiots out today. Kakarot’s soft hearted whelp was putting up a far better showing. 

Kakarot faltered under Dodoria’s current assault of punches, and Vegeta tensed, ready to bail the fool out. He’d let him hurt a bit more first, though. Saiyans were tough, and Dodoria wasn’t all that deadly.

* * *

Goku’s arms felt about ready to fall off. He’d lost all feeling in his forearms, between the burns and bruises. 

He still wasn’t going to ask for help.

Dodoria sneered, drew his arm back, poured more ki into the already burning globe around his fist. “Say hello to the rest of your fool species in hell, pathetic little monkey.”

Goku snarled back, and slammed his kaioken higher, to times five. He grinned at the utter shock on Dodoria’s ugly face, then blasted him point blank with a Kamehameha.

* * *

Kakarot’s ki jumped again, impossibly high, and Vegeta’s breath hissed in shock.

It couldn’t be that high. That would mean that this fool of a third class had more power than Vegeta himself.

Somehow rejuvenated, Kakarot fired a massive ki blast into Dodoria’s face. Under normal circumstances Vegeta would have relished the agonized howl Dodoria made as he burned, but now he just grimaced at the evidence of Kakarot’s strength.

Where had he been hiding that kind of power? 

Vegeta dropped to land next to Kakarot, staring down at Dodoria’s charred corpse. At least Kakarot had actually had the nerve to end his opponent properly. 

Useful against Frieza, Vegeta reminded himself as his blood boiled. For now, that would be enough to spare Kakarot from the consequences of this unconscionable insult to Vegeta’s superiority.

“Hey, Vegeta.” Kakarot sounded strange, out of breath. Vegeta frowned at him.

“If you’d used that power earlier, you could have avoided taking so much damage.” Damage that looked painful. Vegeta’s eyes fell to Kakarot’s bare shoulder, angry red and bleeding. Kakarot’s arms drooped in front of him as if they’d become too heavy to hold up.

“Hah, well, not quite.” Kakarot grimaced what was probably meant to be a smile. He swayed on his feet. His ki, Vegeta noted, had now plummeted to almost nothing.

Well. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to make plans to murder Kakarot for insubordination after all.

“Burned yourself out just to win, did you?” Vegeta smirked at Kakarot’s glare. As he’d thought, there was no way a third class could truly hold such power. Kakarot had pushed himself far past his limits for that single victory. “You could have simply asked for a rescue, you know.”

Kakarot scowled at Vegeta’s grin. “Yeah, well, I didn’t need your rescue.”

“Truly?” Vegeta lifted an eyebrow and pointedly scanned his eyes up and down Kakarot’s battered frame. Most of the gaudy orange shirt had been charred off during the fight, which was a distinct improvement. “Well, then, I suppose you won’t need any help cleaning up the rest of the trash, either.”

Kakarot grimaced again, and tried to lift his arms. His success was limited, but he shifted enough for Vegeta to see the extent of burns and bruises that Dodoria had inflicted. Vegeta could respect Kakarot’s pain tolerance, too.

Only two enemies remained alive. Cala had one well in hand, while Kakarot’s son was tackling the other, a purple Emlisian. One of Zarbon and Ederik’s wretched people.

Vegeta crossed his arms and drummed his gloved fingers impatiently against his bare bicep. The sooner the Earthlings finished their job, the sooner they could take off and get the real battle started.

He wasn’t going to help them, though. There was only so much trash disposal they could expect from him.

* * *

Raditz watched his nephew and smiled. Gohan was only a child, but his power was already immense. Beyond Nappa’s even. Raditz couldn’t wait to see what the kid would grow into.

Nappa growled in irritation. “That kid’s too soft. He could have struck a killing blow a dozen times by now.”

And yeah, Nappa had a point, but Raditz was getting pretty fond of his softhearted nephew, and in the end it probably took greater strength to beat someone without killing them.

“You’re just jealous ‘cos he’s better than you,” Radtiz sniped at Nappa, and staggered when Nappa cuffed him heavily. Clear enough message there. Act like a snarky cub and get disciplined like a snarky cub.

Nappa had never been very effective at turning that logic on Vegeta at any age. Raditz, though, he’d made more of an effort to keep in line. 

Gohan landed opposite the enemy Emlisian, bracing his feet in a solid defensive stance. The Emlisian wouldn’t last much longer, already panting for breath and holding himself in a way that said bruises and broken ribs.

Raditz smiled again, pleased he’d get to see his nephew’s resounding victory against an actually pretty impressive foe.

Then the Emlisian smirked and started to _change_ , and Raditz’s blood turned to ice even before he could register the stunning increase in ki. The bastard had to be packing 20,000 at least. Those fucking transformations were ugly, but rumor had been right, the power increase was no joke.

“Too bad,” Nappa was grim, “kid woulda made it if he’d finished the bastard off when he had the chance.”

The Emlisian fired a massive ki blast at Gohan, slamming him back into a cliff. Raditz watched his nephew crumple limply to the ground, his ki now tiny. 

Laughing, the Emlisian advanced, already gathering more ki in hand. He wouldn’t hesitate to murder a child. 

“Gohan!” Raditz didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking, his own ki was tiny compared to that bastard Emlisian, but he couldn’t just stand here and watch his nephew die.

Where the fuck were Kakarot and Vegeta when you needed them?

“Raditz, don’t be a fool—,” he didn’t stay to hear the rest of what Nappa was shouting. Nothing he didn’t already know. 

Piccolo and Krillin had already charged at the Emlisian, just as quickly had been tossed aside like so much garbage. The Emlisian licked his lips as he aimed at Gohan and fired.

Raditz scooped the kid up and tried to get the hell out of there. The Emlisian’s ki blast caught Raditz across the back, disintegrating his soft Earth-shirt and knocking him to the ground. 

Shit. What the fuck had Raditz thought he’d be able to do here?

“Gohan! Raditz!” Kakarot sounded panicked, and very far away. No good, Raditz realized, his little brother wasn’t going to be able to help.

The Emlisian strolled over, sneering, more ki in his palm. “Well, just my luck, a bargain sale on stupid monkeys.”

Raditz was so fucking tired of that uncreative insult. 

Gohan whimpered, pinned under Raditz’s weight. It was clear he wasn’t going to be able to move any time soon. Raditz stayed put, heart thudding, and wondered if he’d even be any good to his nephew as a shield. The ki that the Emlisian was putting out was terrifying.

Ki. Approaching. A friendly one. Raditz felt his breath catch, hoping.

A small white-booted foot connected with the Emlisian’s head, launching him into the distance. Vegeta landed, arms still crossed, with a bored expression.

“Thanks, Vegeta.” Breathing was pretty painful with whatever the hell that ki blast had done to Raditz’s back.

Vegeta gave him one of those looks like Raditz’s existence was personally offensive to him. Raditz tried not to be personally offended. Sometimes Vegeta’s face was just like that.

“How many times is that just today, Raditz?” That I’ve had to save your sorry ass, Vegeta didn’t have to add.

“Lost count.” Raditz pushed himself up shakily. Gohan leaped to his feet, then swayed and nearly fell. Raditz grabbed the back of his nephew’s shirt to keep him upright.

“Where’s my dad?” Gohan had snapped that at Vegeta as if Vegeta was somehow responsible for Kakarot being late. 

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Being as useless as the rest of your sorry bloodline.”

Raditz and Gohan swiveled to look. Kakarot stood on a distant cliff, looking like he was barely staying upright. Beating Dodoria seemed to have really taken it out of him. 

“Dad!” Gohan seemed to forget he barely had the energy to stand right now, and launched himself into the sky, flight dipping alarmingly as he headed for his father.

“Pathetic,” Vegeta scoffed, before darting away to finish the Emlisian. Raditz caught the familiar edge of his bloodthirsty grin. 

At least Vegeta had showed up in time. That was the important thing.

* * *

“Gohan! Raditz!” Goku’s throat was raw. 

He couldn’t get there in time. His ki wouldn’t gather when he called it, wouldn’t support him in flight. What would he even do once he got to them? Kaioken times five had been a terrible idea, he realized with the pit dropping out of his stomach. He’d beaten Dodoria, but now he was useless to do anything else, even when the situation was desperate. 

“Well now,” Goku whirled to face Vegeta, saw he wore an amused smirk, “still think you don’t need any help?”

“Vegeta, do something!” Rage flowed through Goku’s veins. Vegeta was just standing there, smirking, while Dodoria tried to murder Goku’s son and brother. “Isn’t Raditz your friend?”

“More of an inconvenience,” Vegeta shrugged, then his smirk curved further, “perhaps if you ask very nicely, I might lift a finger to help them.”

Goku wasn’t sure if it was his injuries or his fury that was blurring his vision and making his hands shake. “You said you wanted to join the resistance! That means helping your teammates, dammit!”

Vegeta continued to not move, though his smirk faded to a glare. “I said _nicely_ , Kakarot.”

“Please,” Goku took a deep breath, figuring he’d deal with the rest of whatever the fuck this was later, “please save my son and my brother.”

Vegeta tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. Behind him, the enemy was nearly on top of Raditz and Gohan, ready to murder.

Goku grit his teeth. Apparently Vegeta wanted more. “You were right. I burned myself out. I’m asking you for help now, as nicely as I can.”

He felt sick doing it, though. What the hell was wrong with Vegeta, playing power games when he could have been saving lives?

The pleading had apparently been enough, because Vegeta nodded in satisfaction before zooming off to crush the purple enemy. He made it look easy, and Goku hated him a little for it.

He respected Vegeta’s strength, and his skill on the battlefield, but his personality was something else. 

Being stuck on a spaceship with him was going to be one hell of an experience. Goku would have to keep a pretty close eye on him. Vegeta wasn’t exactly trustworthy.


	8. Taking Off: Launch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the updates to the tags aren’t any change to the plot, just some tidying

Yamcha watched the two refurbished ships take off, heart in his boots. Ugly bulbous things, elongated oval blobs with hideous little retractable legs. They looked like giant bugs, if giant bugs had weird tumors. Windows. 

Next to him, Piccolo growled in frustration.

_”Just think about it, Piccolo,” Bulma’s voice was level and encouraging as it only was when she wanted something, “if you die, Kami and the Dragonballs go with you.”_

_Piccolo crossed his arms and glowered down the meeting room table. The meeting room table that held only Earth members, on account of no one wanting any former PTO members to learn what the hell a Dragonball was. “Those haven’t done us any good over the last three years. I don’t see why that’s a priority.”_

_“Uh, I beg to differ,” Yamcha piped up, only to have Piccolo turn the glowering on him. Great. “Those of us who were, y’know, dead, think the Dragonballs have done all sorts of good.”_

_“That’s one use only,” Piccolo grit out, “I’d be able to do more as a warrior. Most of you have used up your one free chance already.”_

_“But Gohan hasn’t,” Bulma put in, and wow she could be manipulative, “and even if destroying Frieza or disrupting the PTO is beyond Shenron’s power, we might still realize something else they can help us with, too. Once we’re out there.”_

So now Piccolo stood next to Yamcha, glaring at the sky. While Yamcha’s sometimes girlfriend flew off in a spaceship with a handful of murderous aliens, Krillin, and the entire Son family.

Yamcha laughed weakly, because it was that or scream. Maybe with a little more thought he could make a ‘walked into a bar’ joke out of the ship’s occupants. 

He missed Puar already. She would have helped him make light of the situation. But she’d gone on the second ship with Launch, Tien, Chaozu, and the two lady aliens. The lizard lady still gave Yamcha the creeps, and the tall purple one was way too aggressive for a woman. She and blonde-Launch would get along great. 

Piccolo was glaring directly at Yamcha when he next turned. “Did your mind depart with the ships? What other excuse have you for all that giggling and sighing?”

“I was not _giggling_ ,” Yamcha began, before Piccolo ignored him completely and took flight instead. 

This was going to be a long, long stretch, holding down the home fort with just him and Dr Briefs. 

He really hoped Bulma’s plan to divert attention from Earth worked.

* * *

The door closed behind Vegeta with an unsatisfying whir. Mechanised doors were useless for slamming.

He took a moment to lean his head against the cool metal of the wall. Out of one tiny box and into another. His skin crawled with the closeness of the quarters. 

At least he wasn’t stuck in a fucking ki dampener this time. Even if he was stuck on a ship with some of the bastards who voted to keep him in one.

The door whirred open again, and Vegeta jolted upright to turn his glare on Raditz.

“Relax, it’s just me,” the idiot said, carefully arranging himself to fit on the narrow bunk opposite Vegeta’s, “you holding up okay?”

Vegeta growled and didn’t dignify that with an answer. Raditz watched Vegeta’s tail lash for a few moments before pointedly raising an eyebrow.

“Fucking half-breed brat.” Vegeta flung himself down on his own bunk, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, well,” Raditz shrugged, leaned back carefully against the wall, “I know you’d prefer to have a room to yourself and all, but at least we have practice.”

Practice. Because the fucking PTO was too stingy to provide individual quarters for most of its soldiers. As usual, Raditz was the best option available. 

Vegeta growled again. If they’d stuck to their original plan of only fitting seven people on the eight person ship, Vegeta could have claimed the lone single room without problem. 

Raditz stretched gingerly, bare muscled arms over his head, and Vegeta was reminded that bunking with Raditz did occasionally have a few perks. For stress release. 

“At least we get to choose where we’re going this time, y’know?” Such a fucking optimist, that Raditz. 

“Yes, we’ve set ourselves a lovely scenic itinerary of PTO prisons, server rooms, and black market ports.” 

A predatory grin spread across Raditz’s face. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I think the expressions of rage and horror on those idiots’ face are going to be some pretty nice fucking scenery.”

Vegeta laughed, giving into the fool’s attempts to cheer him up. Raditz had a point, after all. Miserable as their current cramped quarters were, they were speeding on their way to break out some of Frieza’s pet prisoners. After that, a dark planet stop to see who might be willing to pay for the PTO personnel data that Bulma had gleefully extracted from her stolen data cores. 

He just wished he could see Frieza’s tantrums when the news started trickling in.

* * *

Bulma sat back and took a satisfied sip of her coffee. She sure hoped she’d packed enough of it to last for however long they were up here. At least capsules made it nice and easy to transport in bulk. 

Which was also pretty damn important for food, if you had a tiny spaceship with four and a half Saiyans on board.

On the viewscreen, ten blinking dots rapidly scattered from their current position. “Screamers,” as Raditz had nicknamed them. She liked his style. 

Bulma’s fuck up with Ederik had brought the PTO’s attention to Earth. Since she’d cost them all the option to keep flying under the radar, she was going to do her damndest to bring the PTO to its knees before it got anywhere near her home. It was part of her insistence to Vegeta that they wait until getting rid of Dodoria before leaving.

_”I’m not just flying off when we know some murderous monster is on the way, dammit. I’ll fix your ship and one of the other ones we’ve stolen, and get our teams in the air, but you have to stick around long enough to help us win first.”_

_Vegeta growled, tail lashing. “It’s a waste of time. Dodoria’s fall will just anger Zarbon and Frieza further, they’ll send the next tier of fighters immediately. Staying here to beat all of them successively defeats the entire purpose of leaving”_

_Raditz bravely cleared his throat, drawing both Bulma and Vegeta’s glares. Bulma noted that Krillin cast a slightly awed expression at the mountain of a Saiyan._

_“Since we know they’re going to be pissed and chasing us, why not have them run in the wrong direction?”_

_Vegeta frowned, tipped his head in an unfairly endearing way, then broke into a bloodthirsty grin. He turned it toward Bulma, and she forced herself not to flinch._

_“Tell me, little Earth technician, how hard would it be for you to fake a PTO locator beacon of the sort carried by transport ships? Perhaps accompanied by a few pre-recorded voice clips for them to waste time audio tapping?”_

So the Screamers had been born, loaded with some audio clips from the Saiyan trio that Bulma thought they’d had entirely too much fun recording. Now that they’d decided to turn traitor, they were pulling no punches on just what they thought of their former employers.

She really, really liked their style. Having a handful of cunning bastards on her side to help brainstorm fucking things up via tech was _amazing_.

_”Also, since we’ve got a tech,” Raditz waved a large hand at Bulma, “who’s to say the report they get from Dodoria is accurate?”_

_It was Bulma’s turn to grin. “Oh, I_ like _where you’re going with this.”_

So in addition to the Screamers being the first thing the PTO would find when they went to look for Bulma’s party, with any luck it would take them a few weeks to realize that “Dodoria’s” mission successful report had been entirely fabricated. Earth was so far from the central nodes of the PTO, and his mission had been so routine, who was going to notice if he was a bit late back, sending only written assurances?

For good measure, Bulma had hacked into the PTO’s central net before leaving and updated every trace of location data she could find on Planet 340 to make sure it was incorrect. In a different way nearly every time. Good luck to them on untangling that in a hurry, even if she’d missed a few records of the genuine location. She’d seeded enough duplicate fakes that some poor soul might get their hopes up.

So helpful of the PTO to have an auto-update push that would carry her hacks to everything within broadcast range. Which would be more or less everything. 

Vegeta appeared silently at her shoulder, making her jump. He surveyed the ship’s viewscreen and smirked. “Now we can finally start the fun part.”

Bulma grinned tentatively back. “Stage two, here we come.”

* * *

Goku watched Vegeta and tried not to frown at him. Vegeta had given a pretty clear indication yesterday of just how well he treated allies.

Not well, was the answer.

Raditz hadn’t come back yet. Goku hoped he was resting. That ki burn had looked nasty, even with ChiChi’s rapid treatment and cooling salve. 

If Vegeta hadn’t been so set on lording it over Goku, Raditz wouldn’t have had to get injured at all. What the hell was wrong with him?

Gohan sat quietly next to Goku, face serious and looking much older than his ten years. Goku noted that Gohan’s gaze also followed Vegeta. There was a healthy amount of suspicion being expressed. 

_”Dad,” Gohan took a deep breath, turned, “mom. I need to go with you.”_

_Not want. Need. His ten year old son needed to go with them._

_“Gohan, sweetheart,” ChiChi responded fastest, “I’d feel so much better if you stayed here. Where you’re safe.”_

_Gohan shook his head, serious. “I’m one of the strongest fighters on Earth,” true, “and with Piccolo staying here, Earth will be pretty well defended without me,” also true, Goku wasn’t seeing a lot to argue with here, “and both of my parents will be in space.”_

_Ouch._

Gohan had been pretty upset when his family fractured. Goku didn’t think they’d ever managed to quite patch that up.

_”You’re_ choosing _to stay dead?!” ChiChi’s voice, a high pitch._ One she hadn’t used in years now. 

_”ChiChi, I could learn so much here. I could get so much stronger. If the PTO comes back, I could—,”_

_“We don’t have any idea if they’ll ever show up again!” ChiChi’s voice cracked, “you’re choosing, based on nothing, to stay away from your family, your son, for an entire year, just so you can maybe get a bit stronger?!”_

They’d divorced, after that. There had been a year’s delay in filing the paperwork after the decision was made.

ChiChi sat in her own seat nearby, calmly reading something on her tablet. They got along pretty well still, Goku hadn’t worried too much about the close quarters of the spaceship. He was glad to have ChiChi’s medical expertise, her calm competence dealing with things like wrapping the ki burns on his still aching arms.

But being here in the same space as ChiChi and Gohan kept reminding him that they hadn’t had that for years on Earth, hadn’t lived together like they would be now, and it made something ache. 

“Yo,” Raditz ambled in, sounding cheerful, “time for the fun bit yet?”

“No, you idiot, we’re still days out from that.” Vegeta turned from where he stood at Bulma’s shoulder to give Raditz a disdainful look. 

“Eh, well,” Raditz joined Vegeta next to Bulma’s chair, and Goku reminded himself that the two warriors looming over his friend were allies. Or at least that they needed a technician. “Hey, Bulma, is that coffee?”

“Get you own,” Bulma grabbed her cup, exaggeratedly shielding it from Raditz. 

“Okay. How?” 

Oh, right. Raditz maybe hadn’t had a chance to learn a lot of Earth stuff.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” Krillin leaped up, seeming grateful for a chance to escape the room. 

The room felt a little larger after they departed for the kitchen. Goku tried not to sigh with relief. He liked open skies and clear water, not being stuck in a little metal box.

At the front of the ship, the communicator to Earth pinged. 

“Ederik’s dead,” Yamcha’s voice informed them as soon as Bulma accepted the call, “someone murdered him.”

ChiChi startled so hard she dropped her tablet. Gohan’s breath hissed in surprise. Bulma turned and stared at Vegeta.

“You’re welcome,” Vegeta told her. 

Goku lunged forward and had a handful of Vegeta’s shirt before his brain caught up with his movements. “You _murdered_ him and all you have to say for yourself is _you’re welcome?_ ”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, and he wrapped a hand painfully tight around Goku’s wrist. “Yes. He’d already proven his ability to mess with your security. Leaving him alive would be dangerous.”

Goku winced at the strength of Vegeta’s grip, noted distantly that Vegeta had kept his hand clear of the bandages covering Goku’s ki burns.

Bulma looked thoughtful. “That’s… actually not a bad point.”

“ _Bulma._ ” Goku knew that his oldest friend didn’t always have the best moral compass, hell she’d actually tried to murder him when they first met, and— okay, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear her agree with Vegeta’s actions. 

“If we murder everyone who doesn’t agree with us, then we’re no better than the PTO,” Gohan protested staunchly. 

Vegeta snorted. “Yes, of course, murdering one rat is completely on par with committing genocide then turning a profit on the planet.” 

Bulma clapped her hands loudly together, derailing that particular train wreck of a conversation. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s set some ground rules for going forward, and forget about Ederik.”

“ _What?!_ ” yelped Yamcha, still on the line. Bulma hit the end call button. Vegeta met Goku’s eyes with an amused expression. 

Grimacing, Goku released Vegeta’s shirt, and was relieved when Vegeta freed his wrist in turn. 

“Okay, so ground rules.” Goku crossed his arms and tried to look in charge. Vegeta sniggered at him, so he probably wasn’t doing it well. “Rule one, no murder unless absolutely necessary. Rule two, if your allies are in trouble, you help them.”

I can’t believe we need to specify either one of those, he didn’t add. 

Vegeta shrugged. “Unless necessary. Fine.”

That didn’t actually bode well. Vegeta’s threshold for necessary seemed pretty damn low. But Goku didn’t know how the hell they were going to come to an agreement on a better one, and he wasn’t keen right then on trying to define necessary murder in front of his ten year old pacifist son.

So Goku nodded, and Bulma nodded, and ChiChi nodded, and that seemed to be the end of it.

He still really, really didn’t trust Vegeta right now.

* * *

So fucking naive, these Earthlings. 

And Kakarot. How dare he lay hands on Vegeta so casually?

The galley door swished open and Nappa frowned at the tense group on the flight deck. Bastard had missed all the fun. Vegeta ignored him. 

Chirping sounded from the communicator again. Bulma looked suspicious of it. Vegeta reached over her shoulder to accept the call.

“Pick up was a success,” Cala informed them cheerfully, sounding ten times more energetic than Vegeta had ever heard her during their PTO days, “Bokardi is on board and she’s ready to hack some magic.”

“Awesome!” Bulma perked right up, “wow, I hope we get a chance to compare notes someday!”

Cala chuckled. “She says maybe. You got everything you need for your house visit?”

“All set.” Bulma grinned. “You got everything set for your concert?”

“Sure do,” Cala sounded satisfied, “‘til after the party, then.”

The line went dead. At least Cala knew how to be concise. 

Both women had been sufficiently vague. Even with Bulma’s attention, they couldn’t be positive that their comm channels were safe from the PTO. But good luck to them matching a house visit to a prison break, or a concert to a virus introduced into the sprawling base on Frieza Planet 677.

They were fighting. Vegeta shifted, feeling his skin itch with the close quarters again. It might not feel like it right now, but they were fighting. This would hurt the PTO.

He preferred it when hurting the PTO involved punching things. Judging from Nappa’s dark expression as he squeezed himself into one of the deck seats and pulled out a tablet that looked stupidly small in his hands, Vegeta was not the only one who would have preferred punching. 

Vegeta’s shoulder blades prickled as Kakarot glared at him from his resumed seat across the room. 

Too bad they weren’t on a planet right now, or Vegeta could have spent the afternoon much more enjoyably. Punching.

* * *

Gohan looked worried. He hadn’t wanted to stay behind, but Vegeta had snapped that this was meant to be a stealth infiltration, and there were only two of them able to fit into the PTO armor on board while also not being instantly recognizable as Saiyan. Which is how their first act of sabotage had involved Vegeta and Goku strolling calmly through a PTO base pretending that they were meant to be there, while Bulma lurked in the computer systems and granted them fake access to whatever they happened to need.

_”Please just kill me,” the blue lizard-like alien whispered, “please, then he can’t use me against my love anymore.”_

Goku was very, very glad that Gohan had stayed behind. 

_”Stop your whining, Kakarot, not all battles are covered in glory.”_

He’d snapped at Vegeta that he didn’t care about glory, he just wanted to be doing something real, rather than sneaking around one of the PTO’s bases. Hiding. Couldn’t they be doing something real?

_”Thank you,” sobbed the short alien, tentacles waving, “thank you, you’ve freed so many more of my people than just me today, how can I ever repay you?”_

He’d looked at Vegeta, confused. 

_”Leverage, Kakarot. Frieza keeps these prisoners to ensure the good behavior of his pet soldiers.”_

Always something to hold over them. Reading between the lines of what Raditz and Vegeta said, Frieza had been able to keep them in line with just the threat to their lives. They wanted to keep living, so they’d behave. 

The punishment was tailored to the individual. When Frieza wanted to control someone who valued the lives of others over their own life, then, well. Then Frieza would threaten the lives of others instead. 

Goku was glad that Frieza hadn’t come to Earth, hadn’t ever paid attention to him. 

“C’mere, Gohan,” his son looked surprised, but accepted the hug as Goku stepped back onto the ship. Vegeta rolled his eyes. Raditz cuffed Goku on the shoulder, hard enough to stagger. Nappa looked personally insulted, even though he’d barely ever said two sentences to Goku. 

“Dad?” His son’s eyes were wide. 

“Thanks for staying.” Goku smiled at his son. _Thanks for not being captured, for not being leverage._

Frieza was a monster. Goku wanted to put a fist through his face. How dare he keep people locked in shoulder-width boxes, use them as leverage to force his soldiers to stay in line.

How many of those reluctant soldiers had Goku encountered? How many had he killed?

_The hole in the PTO soldier’s chest sizzled. Goku looked at Vegeta, opened his mouth to protest. Vegeta tsk’d and wagged an index finger at him. “Necessary, Kakarot. Can’t risk anyone sounding the alarm too early.”_

At least they’d been releasing prisoners. It had been something real. Goku had been on board with freeing people, even if he’d rather be punching people, but that had felt an awful lot more like a battlefield than he’d counted on. The desperation in their eyes. He wasn’t used to it.

_Vegeta tilted his head back, roared with laughter. It was kinda creepy. Goku wished he’d stopped doing that._

_“The looks on their faces, Kakarot. I wish I could see them. No, this is real. If we want to hurt that bastard Frieza, taking away his little pets is as good as a punch to the face.”_

After seeing the fear and relief on the faces of those prisoners, prison escapees, Goku thought he might be starting to understand a bit. About real. 

It wasn’t enough. Now that he understood a bit better how Frieza operated, it was even less enough.

He needed to punch him in the face. Sabotage was more satisfying than he’d expected, but still.

He _needed_ to punch that bastard in the face. Until he stopped getting up.

* * *

Kakarot was dawdling in the doorway. Vegeta grit his teeth and counted to ten. Fortunately for everyone, this was enough time for Kakarot to pull himself together and get the hell out of the way.

Bulma’s hacking opened the cargo bay door just as easily as it had on their way in. Vegeta couldn’t believe how much easier everything was with a competent tech on board. Worth putting up with her attitude, for now.

His tail ached where he’d forced it under his armor. Too obvious a giveaway for a stealth mission, but he hated that he had to hide it. Grimacing, he tugged off the headband confining his hair, dragged it back upright with a sweep of his fingers. Kakarot was doing the same, still moving stiffly in Ederik’s borrowed dark armor.

Raditz and Nappa were far too recognizable, and the little Earthling didn’t fit any of their armor stocks. A poor reason for Vegeta to have had to suffer having Kakarot as his only partner on this critical first foray.

_”Is all this sneaking really necessary?” Kakarot’s voice was a childish whine, and he was toying with the armor instead of putting it on. “I mean, we’re both so strong, can’t we just punch them instead?”_

_“No,” Vegeta growled for the tenth time, wrestling his distinctive hair down under the circular band looped around his head, so he could pass as something more generic than a Saiyan, “we’re raiding a fucking space station, strength isn’t the point.”_

_Kakarot grumbled some more, squinting at the armor. Vegeta wouldn’t have wanted to put it on either, that stupid style that was all leg and arm warmers baring strips of skin at the thigh and bicep. It covered more than the minimal style that Raditz and Nappa had favored, but somehow looked like it covered less. Still, Kakarot would need the arm warmers to hide his bandages._

_“I thought we were fighting,” Kakarot continued complaining, “is freeing prisoners really going to even do anything?”_

_Vegeta snarled at him, and Kakarot startled enough to shut up for a few moments. At least he still had some sensible instincts, even after his blow to the head as a child.  
_

Space stations were dangerous for Saiyans. An enemy could easily dispatch them simply by cutting off the atmospheric circulation. A miserable way to die. He envied Frieza’s ability to survive in a vacuum. 

Kakarot seemed to have changed his tune once he started meeting the prisoners in any case. 

“Clear,” Raditz announced. They’d left the space station’s air space. Everything going so smoothly Vegeta was hunting for a trap.

“Alright!” Bulma punched a fist in the air, more excited than any of the rest of them. Nappa frowned at her. He looked confused that so much enthusiasm could exist in such a weak package. “Next stop, either the coolest or lamest sounding ever, the Ink Splat!”

One of the black markets where information traders could be found. The more havoc they could seed, the better. Anything to keep Frieza nice and distracted. Preferably also furious.

“Looking forward to it that much, huh Vegeta?” Raditz had spoken in their native Sadalan, drawing annoyed looks from the Earthlings and a small smirk from Nappa. Vegeta dropped his anticipatory grin to glare at the oaf, then went to change out of his armor. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled off the outer layer, let his tail free. Miserable, having had to confine himself like that.

Frieza hadn’t even let them have their own language for the last 65 years. Vegeta was only now realizing how much he’d missed it.

It was only a matter of time before he got strong enough to beat Frieza. Preferably after the bastard had some time to get nice and frustrated with their meddling in the PTO’s operations.

Vegeta grinned, anticipation flooding his veins. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that Vegeta thinks in Cold-years


	9. Off Balance: Wavering

Zarbon stared at the latest report, feeling ill. Frieza Planet 908 was now in open rebellion, and somehow had extremely specific information on the weaknesses of elite PTO soldiers. Frieza would not be pleased at the loss of resources.

He tapped his index finger against the console, frowning. Where was Dodoria? Being able to serve up the traitorous Saiyans to Frieza on a platter would have at least sweetened his mood before being presented with this latest string of bad news. There was a limit to how long Zarbon could try to fix things behind the scenes before it became insubordination. 

The chill running down Zarbon’s spine had nothing to do with the room’s climate control. Frieza did not take kindly to insubordination.

It had been two myria since Dodoria’s expected arrival on Planet 340. Dodoria’s reports had said all was well, that he’d be here any day now. Surely he’d make good on his promised return soon, and Zarbon could begin to extricate himself from this mess.

* * *

He had the kitchen to himself. Blessed silence.

Vegeta stretched his arms over his head while he waited for the coffee to brew, then sighed and slumped back against the counter. He rubbed at one shoulder, trying to loosen the muscles, still distantly surprised at the touch of bare hand against bare arm. Looser Earthling garb was admittedly more comfortable for lounging around a spaceship, and gloves could be inconvenient for a number of mundane tasks, but it was a level of exposure he still wasn’t used to. Especially around anyone who wasn’t a Saiyan.

Two myria on the ship, about one twelfth of an Earth year, and he was becoming alarmingly comfortable with these beings.

He couldn’t trust them, he reminded himself. Some of the Earth resistance would have chosen to keep his ki locked away forever. 

_”Gosh,” Krillin fidgeted where he stood next to Bulma, “are we sure this is a good place to uh, visit? It looks pretty seedy.”_

_From the other side of Bulma, Raditz snorted. “That’s the point, little buddy.”_

_Krillin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “not your buddy”, and Bulma laughed at him._

_Vegeta glanced back. “Focus, Raditz,” he told his teammate in Sadalan._

_“Sir, yes sir,” Raditz snapped a sloppy salute, drawing more giggles from Bulma even if she hadn’t understood the Sadalan phrase. The sarcastic tone apparently translated just fine._

Lax though their attitude had been, the foray into Ink Splat had been a success. Raditz and Krillin had somehow managed to buddy their way into a group that turned out to be rebels from Planet 908. They’d been more than willing to purchase some PTO personnel information.

Useful to have Raditz and the little bald Earthling to handle anything requiring interpersonal skills. All that Vegeta and Bulma had needed to do was linger in the background attempting to enjoy the poor excuse for beer until it was time for the exchange. 

The coffee machine beeped. Vegeta moved to pour himself a cup, inhaled the pleasant scent. A good innovation, this beverage. He took a sip, savored the dark flavor against his tongue. Bulma’s capsules had been invaluable in setting them up for this long haul mission.

Supplies were so important, after all. Vegeta smirked. The PTO soldiers relying on the Planet 357 supply base were going to be feeling that very viscerally, after their little rebel landing party had either burned or stolen the lot.

_”We need a team name,” Krillin insisted._

_“What about ‘the Oozaru?’” Raditz joked, tail flicking amusement. Vegeta glared at him. Bulma and Krillin went startlingly pale, and Kakarot looked concerningly clueless. Vegeta didn’t have the space to deal with whatever the fuck that was right now._

The question of team names had been dropped.

_”I feel kinda bad,” Raditz told him softly in Sadalan, “I mean, shit, it’s not the soldiers’ fault Frieza’s an asshole, and we know damn well how being hungry hurts.”_

They didn’t have room for that kind of softness. Raditz had been showing an alarming tendency toward it lately. His little brother was a bad influence. Raditz had grimaced about Planet 446 too, until Nappa snapped at him for it.

_”Yes!” Bulma cackled, “finally, a tech challenge I can really sink my teeth into!”_

Vegeta hadn’t bothered to explain to the squishy Earthling portion of their party what the implications of that particular sabotage would be. Releasing a virus to take out the communication relays on Planet 446 was harmless on the surface, but an extended blackout would likely get the whole planet labeled as traitors and scheduled for execution. 

Kakarot tumbled into the kitchen, rudely invading Vegeta’s space. “Morning, Vegeta!”

“Unfortunately,” Vegeta growled. Morning to the Earthlings meant that they spilled all over the ship, ruining Vegeta’s peace and quiet. In Kakarot and Bulma’s case that also generally included scattering detritus everywhere. 

_”Son Goku, you pick that up right now!” ChiChi snapped. Kakarot jumped guiltily and scooped up the food wrapper he’d just carelessly let fall to the floor. ChiChi pointed sharply to the trash compactor and Kakarot cringed and dropped it in there. Vegeta bit back a smirk. Served the idiot right, being so inconsiderate on a spaceship._

“Hey, are you sure none of the other armor will fit me?” Kakarot had paused to address this apparently critical question instead of getting himself breakfast. His distaste for Ederik’s gear must be great indeed.

Vegeta shrugged. “You could probably fit some of Cala’s underarmor.” The armor was made to stretch to accommodate transformations, after all. Though an ill fitting base size was less comfortable.

“Phew, that would be so much better,” Kakarot turned to rummage in the cabinet for food, then turned back, interrupting Vegeta’s peace yet again. “Is it going to be like last time, when we get there tomorrow?”

It was unclear which aspect of the prison break or general excursion he was referring to. Vegeta shrugged. “Yes, it will be similar.”

Kakarot looked grim, then went back to getting food. Vegeta felt the familiar itch of inaction under his skin. Messing with the PTO’s systems was all well and good, but he wanted to fight properly. The little spars he and Kakarot had fit into some of their planetary visits hadn’t been nearly enough.

Enough to make them both stronger, though. Vegeta’s tail twitched, loose from his waist in this nominally safe location. 

Soon. Soon they’d have made enough of a mess that Frieza would be well and truly distracted, and then they could find a place to hide away and train in earnest.

* * *

Goku punched through the last prison door, relief flooding through him. The blue fuzzy prisoner bowed, thanked him, bowed, thanked him some more. Thanks to Bulma’s hacking, the prison alarms stayed silent even as the doors were breached. Outside the ki-confining boxes, the escapees would have a good shot at stealing a ship themselves, especially once Bulma activated the virus she’d sent over to mess with the base’s systems.

Prison breaks were Goku’s favorite, so far, so much better than destroying food supplies or whatever that computer thing was that Bulma had done on that other planet. Even better now that Goku had found some PTO pants that fit.

Fit tight enough that he was forcing himself not to squirm, but at least they were pants. Too long, too tight, but pants.

Vegeta could have given him a heads up about that option a little earlier. 

“Stop dawdling,” Vegeta growled at him. Goku stuck his tongue out once Vegeta’s back was turned, then jogged to catch up to him. It felt strange seeing Vegeta back in the blue and white armor he’d worn when he first showed up on Earth as an enemy.

It would be easy to get lost in here. Goku stuck next to Vegeta’s shoulder, trusting him to lead the way. Vegeta had some crazy good building navigating abilities. 

“Will you quit breathing down my neck,” Vegeta snapped. Goku slowed a few steps, rolling his eyes. Just couldn’t make the man happy.

Might have something to do with his tail being squished under his armor. That had to hurt. 

Their ship was waiting just where they left it, the bodies of station guards scattered around its creepy little legs. The guards that Vegeta had fought were very dead. Goku had tried to leave his own opponents breathing. Who knew how many were actually serving Frieza by choice? Goku was guessing not all that many.

_”Stop dawdling,”_ Vegeta told him again, and wow he was really being repetitive today. Goku sighed and trotted a little faster, smiling as the ship’s ramp extended to reveal Gohan’s worried face in the doorway.

A ki blast slammed into the ship’s belly, right next to the landing ramp. Bulma screamed. 

Goku whipped around just in time to see Vegeta reducing a guard to a charred corpse. He turned a furious glare at Goku. ”You left them _alive?_ ”

There was going to be another debate about necessary murders very soon. 

Vegeta’s glare twisted into an outright snarl. _”Get on the fucking ship, Kakarot.”_

A wave of ki seared the room behind Goku, and he smelled burnt flesh. Vegeta landed on the ramp behind him, and punched Goku in the shoulder blades, slamming him into Gohan and coincidentally clearing the doorway for himself. 

“Raditz, get us the hell out of here.” Goku thought his brother looked pale as he scrambled to follow Vegeta’s order. Bulma was shaking and looked tearful, but she was rapidly doing something to the keyboard, and the hanger doors opened right on time. 

The black of space surrounded them.

“You _sentimental moron_ ,” Vegeta slammed Goku into the ship’s wall, arm across Goku’s throat, and Goku fought against the instinct to power up. His ki could damage the fragile ship wall.

“No fighting in the spaceship, Vegeta,” Nappa rumbled in a rare disagreement with his leader.

Growling, Vegeta released Goku and stepped back, fists clenching and unclenching. A vein was standing out across his temple, and he looked deeply unhinged. 

“What’s the big deal?” Goku glared back, crossing his arms, “the ship’s okay, and we could have gotten out of there just fine without you murdering the rest of them.”

“That’s not the _point_ ,” Vegeta snapped.

“You went back on your word!” Gohan interjected, ki rising in a way that would be less worrying on solid ground, “you promised no unnecessary murder!”

“What exactly is _unnecessary_ about ensuring that our ship will remain in one piece, and keeping those assholes from contacting central to tell them who paid a visit?” Vegeta’s ki was also rippling as he snarled back, “do you think it’s _unnecessary_ to keep the hangar clear for those fool prisoners stumbling in to find an escape ship?”

Goku hadn’t thought about any of that, and judging from Gohan’s sudden hesitation, his son hadn’t either. 

Vegeta growled again, then abruptly winced and stomped off the flight deck. Goku heard the telltale whirs of doors opening down to the living quarters. 

Right. Squished tail probably wasn’t improving this conversation. 

A tense silence covered the flight deck.

“Well,” Raditz spoke up uneasily from his pilot seat, “if we’re lucky, that guard shot first and was planning to notify central second.”

“And if we’re not lucky, Kakarot’s stupid fit of compassion has ended our chances of keeping Frieza in the dark,” Nappa growled, “that fake mission report from Dodoria was already stretching thin even without this.”

Bulma turned, twisting her hands nervously together. “I shut down all outgoing communications as soon as we touched the hangar floor. We should be good.”

From the way Nappa was glaring at Goku still, ‘should’ wasn’t good enough. Goku scowled back. “Look, my definition of necessary isn’t the same as yours. I’m not apologizing.” 

Nappa twitched as if he wanted to punch Goku, expression alarmingly dark. Then he too turned and left the flight deck. 

Goku looked at his brother. Raditz met his eyes with a worried expression. “I get it Kakarot, but I wish you’d done things differently.”

* * *

Vegeta yanked off the outer piece of his armor, hissing as the motion bruised his tail further. He hadn’t been able to quell the instinct to try to lash it in agitation earlier, and the result when it was shoved under armor was painful.

Fucking Kakarot. Vegeta kicked his boots off and fell to curl on his bunk, pressing the heels of his gloved hands against his eyes. His head ached. How could Kakarot be so fucking stupid?

His tail still hurt. Damn Frieza, damn Ederik, damn Zarbon, damn each and every Earthling. He was tired of having to hide what he was. 

The headache kept building instead of receding. Vegeta pushed his thumbs up against his forehead, slid his hands up to tangle fingers in his hair. Dragged out that fucking headband before returning to his curled position, bruised tail around his knees. 

He was tired of dealing with this shit. The softness of the Earthlings making everything harder than it had to be. As if surviving as a traitor of the most powerful organization in the galaxy wasn’t hard enough already. 

Surviving inside the fucking PTO hadn’t been easy either. 

The door hissed open. Vegeta growled. “Go away, Raditz.” 

“Um, sorry,” a voice that was definitely not Raditz said. 

Vegeta bolted upright, feeling his face heat. Fucking Kakarot, not content with everything else he’d done today, was now invading Vegeta’s quarters. His privacy. Had just walked in to find Vegeta curled on his bed like a helpless child.

The bastard clearly had a death wish, and Vegeta was severely tempted to oblige. 

“Seriously, I’m sorry,” Kakarot said again, holding up his hands in added apology. Vegeta growled at him, then winced as his tail lashed with frustration. Fucking hell that hurt. 

Kakarot was frowning at him. “Why don’t you wear bigger armor, if it’s that sore? Cala’s might work.” 

How dare Kakarot try to offer advice on this. The traitor didn’t even have a tail, what the hell did he know. 

“What the fuck do you want, Kakarot,” Vegeta growled. He hated their positions that had him seated and looking up at Kakarot looming in the doorway, but standing in the cramped room wouldn’t help much.

Kakarot shifted his weight nervously, then invited himself to sit down on Raditz’s bunk. “That’s, um. There’s bad news and it’s my fault so I thought I should be the one to tell you and apologize at the same time?”

Vegeta sighed and rubbed a knuckle against his forehead. “How badly is the ship damaged?”

“Wait, you—,” when Vegeta looked up, Kakarot was staring at him, bewildered, “you know the ship was damaged? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know for sure til you just told me,” Vegeta frowned as Kakarot’s expression only grew more confused, “but it’s obvious what the news would be about.”

“You seem… weirdly calm about it.” Kakarot eyed Vegeta as if he thought Vegeta might explode.

Vegeta didn’t want to be having this conversation. His head hurt, his tail hurt, he was exhausted with the myria of trying to make predictions, contingency plans, emergency measures. Ways to buy them more precious time before Frieza caught up. Useless Earthlings cluttering up the ship and acting as if this were some sort of vacation.

“Vegeta?” Kakarot sounded concerned. Easier for Vegeta to just keep his face buried in his hands for another few moments instead of dealing with him.

Wait. When the fuck had Vegeta buried his face in his hands? He jolted upright again, baring his teeth in a warning snarl. His tail bristled too, which hurt. Of course. 

“Can I help?” Kakarot asked softly.

“You could have helped by not fucking up in the first place,” Vegeta snapped.

Kakarot sighed. “I know, I’ll… do it differently next time.” Not kill them, Vegeta noted, but some other unspecified improvement. “But I can’t go back in time. What can I do to help what comes next?”

“Stay the fuck out of the way.” They’d likely need to make a stop for parts. That would mean a black market, and Kakarot’s naïveté would only be a hindrance. “And tell me what the fuck is wrong with the ship. How long do we have?”

“Um, Raditz said a few days, I think he meant Cold-days?” Kakarot fidgeted. “I can’t remember what exactly was wrong with the ship, I think it had something to do with water?”

Vegeta grimaced. Of course, the part of the ship that the fool guard had blasted contained the filtration systems. Raditz’s estimate of a few days likely included emergency measures already, like forgoing some water uses and dipping into their backup packaged drinking water capsules.

“Just stay out of the way, Kakarot,” Vegeta repeated, “and get the hell out of my space.” 

Kakarot nodded, apologetic again, and shuffled back out of the room. Vegeta rolled over and pulled his pillow on top of his head.

Just one fucking day when everything wasn’t shit. Was that too much to ask for?

* * *

Bulma keyed in their warning sequence as she initiated the call to the second ship. Just in case.

“Hey, sister.” Zaril tipped her scaled head. “Rough day?”

“So rough.” Bulma dragged a hand through her hair. “I think we’ll have to put off the fireworks we had planned.”

She’d really been looking forward to that one. Getting within radius of one of the bigger space stations, a key relay point, and inserting a virus that would scramble all their troop movement information. Now that they were spaceborne the little ship didn’t have enough processing power to support some of messing with systems that she’d been able to do on Earth, but the trade off was being able to mess with way more sensitive systems when the location was right.

“That’s too bad,” Zaril said sympathetically, “was it the house party that got you off track?”

Bulma grimaced. “Yeah. Rude guests. Better steer clear until you’re done with your tea party.”

She was so jealous of that one. Bokardi getting into the systems on one of the big shot planet bases to muck up takeoff protocol for all local ships. Why did it seem like all the most fun things were in the direction that the second ship had taken? Launch sounded like she’d been really enjoying herself.

“Yeah,” Zaril said, drawing Bulma’s thoughts back to the current mess, “copy that.”

* * *

Raditz entered the room cautiously, door whirring closed behind him. There, curled on the bunk. Looked like Vegeta was managing to get some rest. Slowly, Raditz padded the short distance across the room to set a water bottle and tab of painkillers on the nightstand. Vegeta probably had a headache after all that. 

He hadn’t been quiet enough. Vegeta stirred, then winced. 

“Hey, easy.” Raditz laid a hand gingerly on Vegeta’s shoulder. He was hot as always through the thin undersuit.

“Go away,” Vegeta told him in a rough voice that sounded more tired than angry. 

“Don’t be like that, I brought you headache medicine.” Raditz chanced sitting on the edge of Vegeta’s bunk, grabbing his pilfered med-bay supplies back from the nightstand. 

Vegeta turned his head enough to squint at Raditz. Maybe it was meant to be a glare. Raditz should’ve turned the lights down on his way in too. 

“C’mon, just sit up for a minute,” Raditz coaxed. Vegeta grumbled, but pushed himself upright and didn’t shake off the hand Raditz wrapped around his bicep to help pull him up. 

“There ya go.” Raditz handed Vegeta the painkiller tab while he twisted the cap off the water bottle. Vegeta gulped both down, then flopped back to the bed with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. Raditz resisted the urge to run a hand through Vegeta’s hair. That kind of gesture was too soft for Vegeta’s preferences.

Didn’t really seem like Vegeta was in the mood for anything that involved movement, today, either. 

“Get some more sleep,” Raditz said instead, standing back up, “I’ve got the ship thing under control.”

Vegeta grunted, then cracked an eye back open. “Under control as in destination plotted?”

“Yeah, nice and close, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Mmph.” Vegeta really must have been exhausted, because he closed his eye again and slumped back into apparent sleep right as Raditz stood there. Pretty high trust rating from Vegeta across all counts. Raditz carefully backed out of the room, remembering to dim the lights as he went. 

Their destination was Calyptus, which Vegeta would hate, so it was fortunate that he’d gone to sleep instead of pressing for a name. It’d be better for everyone if he was well-rested by the time they got there.


	10. Off Balance: Bracing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to CapsuleCrisis for letting me use some of their headcanons in this one, and for brainstorming!

He wanted a goddamn shower. Vegeta shifted restlessly in his seat on the flight deck, watching Raditz plot the final stages of their descent.

To fucking Calyptus. Of course. 

“Beginning atmospheric entry,” Raditz announced. 

Bulma bit her lip and redoubled the speed of her typing in the co-pilot seat. Obsessively checking the ship’s status. 

Watching to see if the patch held. There wasn’t anything they could do if it didn’t. 

Vegeta turned to glare at Kakarot, who at least had the sense to duck his head guiltily. A familiar jolt announced that they’d entered the atmosphere. Heat drag would be building all around the ship’s hull. 

“One minute to landing,” Raditz calmly updated. 

With some gratification, Vegeta noted that Kakarot had put a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. Good. Let him worry about the consequences of his fool actions. 

Soli knew he was too relaxed about everything else. 

The deck was unusually silent. Krillin was bending over with his head on his knees, hands braced behind his head. As if that would save him from the scorching heat and oxygen-poor atmosphere outside if the patch tore. 

Nappa stared straight ahead with a grim expression. Vegeta glanced again at the bag under Nappa’s feet, with some amusement. The room Nappa had been forced to share with Krillin had the interior wall above the damaged water pump. Seemed Nappa had preferred to bring his belongings along just in case of further damage. 

_”Never thought I’d miss the damn noise from that pump so much,” Nappa had muttered the second morning out, as they sat in the kitchen drinking their rationed water. No coffee, non-essential._

“Touch-down in five, four, three…” Vegeta tuned out the rest of Raditz’s commentary. If they’d made it to the count, they were clear. 

Now for the really unpleasant bit.

* * *

“6,000 credits is plenty generous,” Nappa was snarling at one of the circling carrion eaters in Karmadigan, “don’t insult me by pretending that the Barkad needs more than that for landing rights.”

He had switched his mustache for a short beard a few days ago in the spirit of being a little less recognizable. Raditz still found the change disconcerting. 

One of the Rodaratarians surrounding them gestured vaguely, long thin fingers twitching. “Rates change. 10,000 credits per day now.”

Raditz maintained his post in the doorway while Nappa kept up his arguing, blocking the Earthlings in and the colorful knee-height mass of Rodaratarians out. His hair somehow felt heavier in the bundled and braided mass that ChiChi and Bulma had forced it into. 

_”You wanted to do something to make it look less Saiyan, right?” Bulma cajoled. “This definitely won’t look Saiyan, now hold still.”_

The parade of expressions across Vegeta’s face at the hair reveal, from shock to horror to amusement followed by actually doubling over in laughter, had been a bonus. 

In general the ship only had one door, which Raditz was currently blocking. But someone determined and small could also get out via the engineering room’s bot hatch, with the right local access codes. 

Vegeta was probably well on his way by now. Nappa could join him shortly.

* * *

Finding Calyptus’ infamous fighting ring wasn’t difficult, even though it had moved location yet again since Vegeta’s last visit. 

They should have haggled for a better price to sell the information at the Ink Splat, but their objective at the time hadn’t been money. Next time, he’d need to think further ahead.

This was all fucking Kakarot’s fault. If he hadn’t slipped up, their ship wouldn’t be damaged.

If he’d had the decency to slip up differently, they could have secured the replacement parts for their little group from the PTO directly, instead of forcing Vegeta into this indignity.

He was going to have to find one of the fighting ring’s Rahk. Bastards were slimy, but no one else could get him in fast enough. Only a Rahk would risk staking an unknown fighter into their pool for today’s match. 

Fucking Kakarot.

* * *

Vegeta’s ki was moving away from the ship. Goku blinked, confused. When had he gotten outside?

Nappa’s ki was moving away too. 

“Alright,” Raditz turned to face them, and Goku was distracted yet again by the weirdness of his brother’s hair done up all in a bun surrounded by braids, crowning an eye wateringly yellow t-shirt over green gi pants, “Nappa’s got the landing rights sorted, now just sit tight for a bit.”

“Um, don’t we need to get out there and do some shopping?” Bulma looked ready. 

“Nah, not quite yet,” Raditz smiled, leaned a shoulder against the doorway he was still blocking, “need some more funds first.”

“How are we going to get those from in here?” Krillin protested, “seems like just sitting here costs money already.”

Raditz shrugged, looked like he was going in to answer in a circle. Goku cut him off. “Is that where Vegeta and Nappa went?”

Judging from his brother’s annoyed expression, he hadn’t been supposed to notice that bit so soon.

* * *

The holding room smelled just as bad as the ring’s last location. Vegeta leaned back against the molded plastic chair and listened to the blood-thirsty roar of the crowd outside. He kept part of his attention on suppressing his ki to an insultingly low level, no better than Raditz. 

_”My cut is 70% if you win,” the Rahk told him, disinterested, “no scales off my nose either way.”_

_Vegeta grit his teeth and accepted the offensive deal, because they were short on time and low on options. A Rahk was the fastest and most anonymous way to enter._

_The Rahk smirked. If Vegeta won, the Rahk would make a compelling return on investment._

_If Vegeta lost, well. The Rahk had other fighters in his pool, and Vegeta’s life was not his concern._

Bladed weapons were allowed. Ki blasts and flying were not. Vegeta had ignored the offer to borrow a blade. Saiyans didn’t need silly props like that. 

Winnings were higher for barehanded fighters. Odds always stacked against them. Especially squishy looking mammals with their ki held artificially low. 

Nappa waited in the crowd, ready to multiply some of their funds from Ink Splat by bidding on Vegeta’s acting. Insult upon insult. At least the burn of Nappa’s ki reminded him that he would make winnings outside what the Rahk determined. 

The dark paint he’d smeared against his cheeks as distraction itched, and his tail was too hot hidden under his layers of dark clothing. Even his hair was uncomfortable, squished down by an extra thick headband. 

Irritation pricked under his skin, fluffed his hidden tail. This sneaking and hiding should be beneath him. 

Yet Frieza had been forcing him into it for most of his life.

* * *

Goku darted around a corner, quickly out of sight of the weird aliens still surrounding their ship. They were so colorful, but he couldn’t quite tell which bits were scales and which bits were clothing. There had been feathers somehow too.

_”How did he even get out,” Bulma hissed from where she stood next to Goku in the engine room, “there’s only one door, that and the bot hatch, and the hatch is tiny.”_

_“So is Vegeta,” Goku pointed out, then jumped and looked around guiltily in case Vegeta had somehow heard._

_“The hatch is coded,” Bulma muttered, now pacing, “how would he—,” she stopped, slapped a hand to her forehead. “Kami, I’m such an idiot. I never changed the maintenance codes, they’re only local.”_

Turned out Goku could fit through the hatch too, after Bulma unlatched it. With any luck, everyone else would think he was still taking the nap he’d claimed to want. 

The cacophony of smells and colors on this planet left him dizzy. He tracked Vegeta’s distant ki, bumping into people left right and center, far more than he’d ever seen in one place. This made West City look like nothing. People were so densely packed here it felt like he could barely move, and they were all shouting in languages he didn’t speak. He couldn’t tell which smells were food versus garbage versus machinery. At least one person, weirdly shiny, had been drinking something that smelled horrifyingly like engine oil. For once in his life Goku wasn’t tempted to try to get lunch from the nearest vendor. 

Someone large and red and weirdly rocky slammed into him, knocking Goku back a pace. He blinked in confusion as the person started yelling at him in a rough language, gesturing wildly. Trying to convey apology with a hand gesture, Goku sidestepped and continued on his way. He felt air move against his neck as the alien took a swipe at him while still yelling. 

Didn’t seem like his apology had been accepted.

How had Vegeta and Nappa gotten through this mess so quickly? If Goku hadn’t been tracking Vegeta’s ki, he’d have gotten turned around a dozen times already.

Vegeta’s ki abruptly plummeted, and Goku tripped in alarm. He refocused on Nappa, and kept going, trying to push faster through the crowd.

* * *

Gohan frowned at his uncle. Raditz smiled back. 

“My dad’s gone after them, you know,” he said, and watched the smile slide off Raditz’s face. 

There had been a really long conversation in Sadalan, sounding growly and vaguely threatening as always, not long before they landed on this planet. Vegeta had looked mad, but then he often looked mad. All three Saiyans had done a lot of grimacing, which wasn’t unusual either. 

Still, Gohan didn’t trust it when they decided to speak in a language that no one else on the ship could understand. 

“Where did they go?” He hoped his uncle would actually answer. Sometimes he did. He was mostly a nice person, when he got a choice.

Raditz sighed, tried to push a hand through his hair like he usually would but got it all tangled in his new braids instead. “They just had to take care of some stuff, y’know? Nothing kids need to worry about.”

Sighing, Gohan slumped in his seat. If it was something he hadn’t needed to worry about, then Raditz would have just told him. 

What if they were out there killing people for money or something? Visions of violent muggings flashed through Gohan’s mind. 

Bulma stomped in and started demanding to know why Raditz hadn’t warned her about the hole in the ship’s security. Raditz held up his hands in surrender. 

Without stopping too long to think about it, Gohan zipped past him through the doorway, moving faster than anyone left on the ship would be able to track.

* * *

His first opponent was a Gofislan. Three times Vegeta’s height and probably five times his mass, built of corded grey muscles. He wielded a rusty double-headed axe that looked like an antique. The axe was taller than Vegeta.

Winning too easily would up the odds in his favor for his next matches, and reduce their value. Vegeta grimaced, hating that this was playing any part in his fighting.

Not that a fucking pit fight with a restriction on ki blasts counted as an actual battlefield.

The bell sounded.

The Gofislan roared and charged transparently towards him. Vegeta fought down his bloodlust, keeping his ki mostly in check, and moved aside in an exaggerated stumble. The axe bit the ground a carefully calculated handspan from his foot.

His opponent grinned, wide and bloodthirsty, and charged at him again as if he’d managed to reveal an actual weakness. 

Vegeta dodged the next couple swings with teeth gritted in frustration, wishing he could let loose some of his pent up energy on the smug bastard. Too soon. Well, there would be more opponents. Vegeta’s own grin turned bloodthirsty, and his opponent momentarily stumbled. Good instincts. 

He’d dragged this on for long enough. Still carefully calculating, Vegeta returned a punch that slammed into the Gofislan’s knee. The hit was harder than it looked, and the Gofislan staggered, skin paling towards white, before trying to press on as if nothing happened.

Perfect. This opponent was tenacious enough that Vegeta could start to hit properly without dropping the value of the following fights too much.

He jumped to land his fist in his opponent’s kidneys, and smirked at the grunt of pain.

* * *

There was a tall pink guard at the door, shouting at people in one of the languages Goku didn’t understand. 

The guard’s power level was pretty low. Goku glanced around quickly, then upped his kaioken so that he could zip past. Faster than most eyes could track.

No one shouted after him. Grinning, Goku trotted down the weirdly ominous corridor. It curved with no end in sight, peeling paint in some kind of sad green color. 

There. Vegeta was just behind that metal door. Except now he wasn’t, his ki was moving away again. Had he noticed Goku? But that would be weird, Goku was keeping his ki really thoroughly suppressed right now. 

Roaring in thousands of voices sounded from somewhere in the building. Goku shivered, even as something about it made his blood feel hot. There was rhythmic pounding too, enough that he almost felt as if the floor moved under him. 

Goku backed away from the metal door to find another entry point. Maybe over that way, where he could feel Nappa’s ki.

* * *

The crowd screamed its approval of Vegeta’s second match-up. He let his lip curl in disgust, saved from scrutiny by distance. 

If those idiots thought they were going to see his blood this early, they were going to be deeply disappointed. 

The Mgolu stood lazily opposite him, made overconfident by its natural armor plating. It probably thought he couldn’t even dent it, fighting barehanded as he was.

Vegeta grinned, teeth sharp. He was satisfied to see the Mgolu waver slightly, all four of its large eyes blinking stupidly at him. 

So many soft and vulnerable targets. Not to mention that long and spindly neck.

* * *

A bell sounded, echoing down the corridor. The roaring grew impossibly louder.

Throat dry, Goku ducked through a central-looking archway, and found himself in a stadium, surrounded by screams. 

It took him a minute to process what was happening. He stood amongst banked stands, people packed into them like sardines, thousands, probably lots of thousands, all looking down at the circle of sand in the middle and yelling in a landslide of language. 

Vegeta was in the sand circle, though he didn’t quite look or move like himself. Goku wouldn’t have known him without his ki sense. 

In there with Vegeta was what looked like a giant pangolin with foot-long knives for fingers. It’s plated armor looked crazy tough.

It was currently trying to stab Vegeta, and Goku couldn’t understand why Vegeta wasn’t flying away or hitting it with a ki blast. Hell, why did it look like Vegeta wasn’t even _trying?_

Why was Vegeta holding his ki so low? Was he hurt?

The crowd screamed around him, and Goku didn’t understand any of the languages but he somehow understood that they wanted blood. 

He shuddered. What was Vegeta doing here?

* * *

He toyed with the Mgolu for long enough to keep the bidding up, then snapped its neck with one well-timed jump. The crowd roared its approval.

Two down. Vegeta grinned. The next opponents might actually be enough to present a challenge. 

After so many days crammed in that tiny ship, he looked forward to hitting something properly.

* * *

Vegeta abruptly seemed to get bored of messing around and let his ki loose, leaping up in a fluid arc to grab the pangolin’s neck and pull, twist, snap, before landing perfectly in the sand. The room shook around Goku as the crowd screamed. 

Goku felt ill and pleasantly tingly all at the same time. Vegeta was impressive alright, but that was not the kind of impressive that Goku wanted to see him using his strength for. 

_Why was he here?_

The crowd quieted to muttering as Vegeta strolled off the sand. A team with a stretcher came to cart away his opponent’s corpse. Goku swallowed hard and leaned against the block supporting the nearest seats, shoulder cool against the concrete or rock or whatever it was.

Two new people walked onto the sand, and started trying to dismember each other with swords.

* * *

His fifth opponent presented a challenge, though he looked less impressive than the first batch. Vegeta bared his teeth and lifted the last of his ki suppression. The Rabali opposite him gave no indication that he sensed any difference, just braced his feet in a powerful stance and lifted his twin swords with clear intent. 

They darted around each other, Vegeta’s speed and agility keeping him well clear of the blades for now. But the Rabali was obviously a seasoned warrior, patient and steady. It would only take one bite of his blade to severely damage Vegeta. That was Rabaliad steel, ki barriers would be nothing to it.

Vegeta’s grin grew a little wider, enough to briefly spark unease across his opponent’s face. Yes, this was just like on Rabaliat.

Maybe this bastard was even one of the Rabali that he’d fought there. Not as impressive looking as a Mgolu, those Rabali, more like Saiyans in appearance. 

Easy to underestimate, but deadly.

* * *

Goku clenched his fists so hard that his nails bit blood from his palm. What was Vegeta _doing?_

It was one thing to play around against weaker opponents, but this guy was serious. Why wasn’t Vegeta taking him out with a ki blast? Was he seriously going to try to win barehanded against those swords? 

They whirled around each other, a deadly dance, the blades seeming to get closer to Vegeta with every turn. Vegeta’s speed was amazing, even on foot with his sudden inexplicable lack of flight. Goku licked his lips, mesmerized. 

One of the blades bit home, and Goku jolted out of his trance as red splashed the sand.

* * *

That fucking bastard had spilled his blood. Vegeta snarled, slammed his head into the Rabali’s nose. His opponent staggered. Vegeta wrapped his fingers around the Rabali’s left wrist, twisted, snapped, grinned at the scream.

He twisted the sword free from his opponent’s now limp fingers, and slashed it across the bastard’s throat. 

The Rabali went down in a spray of blue, drenching Vegeta’s clothes in the foul smelling stuff. Wrinkling his nose, Vegeta inspected the second sword wedged in his left bicep. Better wait to remove it til a bandage was handy. It had stopped only when it hit bone, plenty deep enough to cut through things that would gush if he took out the blockage prematurely.

* * *

Was Vegeta’s arm even still attached? That sword had gone so deep. 

Vegeta strolled off the sand as if he hadn’t got a care in the world, even though _he still had a sword stuck in his arm_ , and Goku snapped back to awareness and rushed back down the corridor.

* * *

At least the medic was competent. Fortunately Vegeta had thought ahead with his clothing layers, and the outer long-sleeved shirt could be removed to allow treatment while still leaving a short-sleeved shirt hiding his tail.

He could sense Nappa’s ki moving slowly closer. Probably caught in the crowds. It was hardly as if Vegeta needed his old guard fretting over him in any case.

“Vegeta!” Kakarot burst into the room, yelling Vegeta’s obviously Saiyan name, and Vegeta wished it were possible for him to set the idiot on fire just by glaring. 

Also, _what the fuck was he doing here._

* * *

Vegeta seemed fine. Vegeta was getting his arm wrapped up by a medic even more stoic than ChiChi, a medic who didn’t even blink when Goku ran into the room shouting.

Vegeta looked like he wanted to murder Goku, which wasn’t new exactly, but wasn’t quite what Goku had expected at this particular moment. 

“Oh, uh, are you mad ‘cos I didn’t stay on the ship?” Goku guessed, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his head. His concern seemed silly now that he was standing in front of Vegeta, who clearly still had both arms attached. 

“Goku,” Vegeta said, and Goku wondered if he’d misjudged Vegeta’s expression since Vegeta was being nice enough to use Goku’s actual name, “you really should have stayed on the ship.”

Well that was mixed messages. Goku frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. His fingers caught against his annoying headband, forced onto him by Raditz to constrain his Saiyan-looking hair just on the off-chance that someone on this planet saw him. Hah. Guess Raditz had been thinking ahead, since plenty of people saw him when he snuck off the ship.

Vegeta’s hair was also squished all out of shape under a headband, and he was hiding his tail.

Oh. Maybe he wasn’t being nice, by avoiding Goku’s Saiyan name. 

Vegeta somehow seemed to catch the moment when Goku clicked what his mistake had probably been, judging by the sigh and eye roll. 

“Uh, how’s your arm?” Well that was a stupid question, Vegeta’s arm was probably really incredibly sore.

“Fine,” Vegeta told him. The liar. 

Goku fidgeted, wanting to ask a dozen questions and fighting with the feeling that he probably shouldn’t ask them til they were back on the ship. Or at least somewhere that other people couldn't hear.

Given how impossibly many people there were around here, that probably just meant the ship.

* * *

Zarbon crushed the data pad in his hand. His assistant would need to bring him a new one. 

“Appule,” he said calmly, trying to ignore the fool’s trembling, “would you repeat that?”

Appule gulped. Zarbon would have to demote him later. He couldn’t tolerate such delicate subordinates. “We found signals for the Saiyans’ ship in ten different locations, sir.” 

Dodoria’s silence had become ominous, enough so to order an investigation. An investigation intended to rule out other possibilities and set Zarbon’s frayed nerves at rest.

Instead he had this utter disaster of a report to deal with. 

“Their ship cannot be in ten places at once, Appule,” Zarbon told him through gritted teeth, “I expect you to determine which location they _actually occupy_.”

The consequences of failing to comply were obvious. Appule’s entire frame shook with them.

* * *

Goku shuffled guiltily behind Vegeta. After a stunning amount of yelling in a language that Goku hadn’t even known Vegeta spoke, it wasn’t the one they used on Earth and it didn’t sound like Sadalan, Vegeta had shouldered a bag full of something and waved for Goku to follow him out of the building. 

They needed to secure more funds, Raditz had said. 

“Hey, Ve—,” Goku stopped when Vegeta cut him off with a snarl. “Hey, my buddy, my pal. What were you doing in there?”

Vegeta eyed Goku in a way that suggested he was contemplating murder. Goku smiled, keeping his arms laced behind his head. That was just what Vegeta’s face looked like sometimes. 

Although, murder was also a thing that Vegeta just did. Disappointingly often. 

“Your mistake was expensive,” Vegeta told him, biting each word off as if it were personally insulting. It probably was. “Don’t fucking make me clean up after one of your messes ever again.”

Goku winced. “Okay.” 

They walked in silence for a while, Vegeta stepping through the packed marketplace as if he did this all the time. None of the awkward shoulder slamming that Goku had done on his way over here. 

“Have you been here before?” There was very little that Goku knew about Vegeta’s life pre-Earth, he was suddenly realizing. 

Vegeta frowned at him, but it was only a small frown by his standards. “Yes. It’s unsavory, but useful.” 

Goku hummed in response. That made sense, somehow. The Saiyans seemed to know about a lot of places like that. 

The Saiyans who weren’t him. Who hadn’t grown up safe and happy on Earth. 

He watched Vegeta out of the corner of his eye. Vegeta didn’t act like he was in any particular pain, but that wound had been deep. 

If Goku hadn’t messed up back at the prison, Vegeta wouldn’t have been in that ring at all. The guilt of that knowledge sat hot in Goku’s stomach.

* * *

“Lord Zarbon, sir,” Appule stood shivering in the doorway.

“Well don’t just stand there, Appule,” a waste of time, truly, time that Zarbon couldn’t afford with the latest news from Planet 908, “if you have something to report, then do so.”

“That is, we—,” the fool couldn’t even keep his words in order, “to isolate the Saiyan’s true ship from the nine false signals, we tapped the audio. We, we found it, but,”

“But what,” Zarbon snapped, losing his perfect cool due to the fool’s rambling.

Appule held out a datapad, queued to an audio file. Zarbon pressed play.

“—and the best part is that those idiots have no idea,” Vegeta laughed, and Zarbon was struck with the usual urge to strangle him for the audacity of that smug, royal tone, so out of place on a feral monkey, “I’m certain that Zarbon’s far too busy kissing Frieza’s ass to think about whether Dodoria’s report is _genuine_.”

The usual sycophantic sniggers erupted from Nappa and Raditz in the background, _mocking him_. 

Zarbon crushed the data pad. That was two in one day.

Vegeta would pay for this.

_”Find me that ship,”_ Zarbon snarled at Appule, who scurried to obey, “tell every PTO officer in comms range to kill or report any Saiyan that they lay eyes on. Frieza will require their sorry monkey heads on a platter.”


	11. Off Balance: Pushed

Vegeta returned minus one shirt and one Nappa, but plus one bandage, one bag of credits, and one Kakarot. 

His expression suggested he was not happy about any of these things. 

“Yo, Vegeta,” Raditz tried weakly, taking the bag when Vegeta snarled and shoved it at him. Kakarot paused in the doorway next to Raditz, and they both watched Vegeta storm through the door to the kitchen before the hiss of the deck hatch told them he’d headed downstairs.

“He should have gone to the medbay,” Kakarot said, echoing Raditz’s unspoken thought, “ChiChi’s bound to be better than the medic at whatever that other place was.”

Raditz choked. “Don’t tell me…” he stared at his little brother and realized, okay, yeah, Kakarot had clearly seen some or all of Vegeta’s matches. His little brother seemed some combination of guilty, impressed, and concerned. 

Definitely Vegeta related.

“Get out of the doorway,” Nappa growled, clomping past Raditz and shoving a second, much larger bag at him. 

Nice to know that they both trusted him to look after the money at least. 

“It went well, then?” Vegeta was still walking and snarling, so Raditz figured it must have gone mostly okay despite Kakarot’s apparent interruption. 

“Fine,” Nappa said brusquely, glaring at Kakarot. He switched to Sadalan. “More than enough funds to cover essential repairs and stock up on some spare parts.”

The message being that they shouldn’t have to do that again for a while. Raditz felt his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in days. 

Sounded like no one from the PTO had noticed them either. They just might be lucky enough to get out of here without Kakarot messing anything else up.

* * *

Zarbon narrowed his eyes as his scouter started chirping. The code indicated a common foot soldier.

“I hope you have a good reason for this interruption,” he warned coldly, making a note of the code in case punishment was required later. 

His jaw ached with Frieza’s reminder of the importance of finding those damned monkeys.

“It’s about the alert on Saiyans, sir,” the caller coughed, and had Zarbon’s instant attention.

“Do go on.”

“Well, sir, there’s uh, there’s a fighting ring on Calyptus - not that I was there, of course, that would be a breach of code,” it was obvious the fool had been there, it would be in his best interests to get to the point, “well, today there was a new fighter, some kinda mammal. Small, looked like bad odds, but, uh. But this little guy cut right through even the toughest regulars like he was possessed. From his looks, he coulda been a Saiyan, if he was a Saiyan hiding his tail.”

Zarbon froze, processing this flood of information. There was a chance, though by no means a certainty, that this caller was describing Vegeta. “What was his power level?”

“Well, that was the crazy thing, it kept going up and up through the fight. Topped out at over 26,000. Never seen anything like it.” 

That was higher than Vegeta’s recorded power level, but Saiyans improved with distressing speed. “Thank you for your report, soldier.”

Zarbon cut the line. He wouldn’t need to arrange a punishment for the caller after all.

* * *

“Oh! Is that a translator?” Bulma veered towards yet another one of the vendors in Calyptus’ sprawling market, and Vegeta yanked her back with a hand at her shirt collar before she could disappear into the dense patchwork of species filling the market. Again.

“Focus, woman.” 

She rolled her eyes, and waited all of a milli-minute before darting towards something else, narrowly avoiding hitting a tall Gofislan in the shoulder. Vegeta grimaced, right fist clenching and unclenching, pointedly not rubbing at his wounded shoulder. He should probably let the Earth medic actually take a look at it once they got back.

His face still itched from that damn paint, even though he’d managed to wipe the visible bits of it off. He wished Bulma would hurry up and get the parts she needed so they could finally repair the showers. 

“Relax, yeah?” Kakarot grinned next to him, looking like he was on vacation, “she’s here to look at tech, so let her look at tech.”

Vegeta glared at him. “She’s here for a specific kind of tech, and it’s not a fucking translator.”

Kakarot just shrugged, then sniffed the air and started making a beeline for one of the food stalls. Vegeta bit back a scream, and grabbed a handful of the idiot’s hair to slow him down. 

“Ow! C’mon, Ve—, c’mon, that hurts.”

Vegeta ignored the fool’s protests, and dragged him along toward the part of the market that would have actual ship parts. Behind them, Krillin made an odd coughing noise. 

“Hey!” Bulma appeared out of nowhere, latched herself around Vegeta’s free, injured left arm. He gritted his teeth and did not make any pained noises. “You weren’t just going to leave without me were you?”

“That’s why I told you to focus,” Vegeta growled. “The parts we need will be this way.”

* * *

The market still made Goku dizzy, but now that he’d had time to get hungry, some of the food smelled really good. He was sure Vegeta could help him figure out what was edible, if only Vegeta would relax a little. 

_”Stay here,” Vegeta snapped at him, “you’ve caused more than enough trouble already.”_

_“Aw, c’mon, Vegeta, it’s boring on the ship,” Goku protested, “I’ll behave, I promise!”_

_Raditz snorted. Nappa grimaced, and muttered something in Sadalan. Vegeta made a slightly pained expression and answered in a tone that bordered on whining. Nappa just looked pointedly at Goku, looked back at Vegeta, then raised an eyebrow._

_Vegeta sighed before turning and glaring at Goku. “Fine, then. But if you cause any more trouble, I’m fucking leaving you on Calyptus.”_

Maybe now wasn’t the best time to bother Vegeta about food.

* * *

Gohan woke up. He was in a cage. 

Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the grey bars, intending to twist them apart. 

A shock coursed through his body and he screamed, the world going blurry. He fell back to the ground, only hazily aware of the gray figures milling outside the bars and muttering.

* * *

“Oh, here we go!” Bulma honed in on one particular water filter on the table full of apparently identical filters, scooped it up and turned it back and forth, squinting, “yeah, this one’s a match, and it looks like it’s all in one piece still.”

Vegeta glanced at the Flosarian vendor, who gave them all a flat unimpressed look. “100,000 credits,” he said in thickly accented Galactic Standard, shaking a fly off his large ears.

“Oh hell no,” Bulma exploded, getting up in the vendor’s face before Vegeta could cut in with some of the more unsavory Karmadigan phrases in his vocabulary, “listen, buddy, we might look like tourists, but I know damn well this is worth 10,000 credits, tops.” 

It was probably worth more, Vegeta pondered, remembering overheard bargaining for similar parts on past trips. But if she could get it for that little, he might just forgive her distractedness earlier. 

The Flosarian puffed up his mangy fur, giving the illusion of growing to twice his original size, and got back in Bulma’s face yelling Karmadigan obscenities between occasional insistence in Galactic Standard on a higher price. She seemed surprisingly unconcerned. Maybe because she couldn’t understand precisely where he was telling her she could put that filter. 

Vegeta tuned them out, scanning the market idly. No signs of PTO, but then, they wouldn’t be in armor out here. The cacophony of the market flowed past in a foul smelling river of color as it did on any other day.

“Hey, boss man!” Bulma yelled. 

Goku nudged Vegeta’s good shoulder. “I think she means you.”

Vegeta bit back a grimace, and went to join the shouting. 

The vendor’s flinch at his use of Karmadigan was at least gratifying.

* * *

Krillin watched Bulma and Vegeta team up against the poor salesman and shuddered in sympathy. Sure, the salesman seemed a bit sleazy and had clearly been trying to rip them off, but that didn’t mean he needed to have quite possibly the two most terrifying people in the galaxy yelling at him in two different languages all at once. 

“What do you think this does?” Goku had picked up something that had a light flashing on it. Krillin grabbed for the thing in alarm, but _carefully_ , and set it back down on the table.

“Come on, Goku, I really don’t think we should be picking anything up. Especially anything that’s still got power.”

Goku wrinkled his nose and turned to poke at something else on the table. Krillin sighed. It sure hadn’t taken his friend long to forget Vegeta’s threat to just leave him stranded here. 

“Alright!” Bulma came up behind Krilliln’s shoulder with a large bag and a larger grin. Vegeta jerked his chin at Goku, and miracle of miracles Goku actually followed him.

“That looks like an awful lot more than one filter, Bulma.” Krillin eyed the bag cautiously. “Did you talk Ve— uh, the big boss into letting you buy some extras?”

Bulma laughed. “Fully sanctioned. This is all backup parts, not fun stuff. The boys will be getting the rest of it now.”

Rest of it? Boys? 

“Let’s go,” Vegeta cut in, already back. Behind him, Goku carefully balanced a bundle twice his own height across one shoulder. “We’ve got what we need, no reason to linger.”

“Are you sure we can’t get any food on the way back, boss man?” Wow, Goku just never stopped pushing his luck.

Vegeta glared at him. “Get that to the ship first.”

Goku perked up. “So food after? I’ll go on ahead, then!”

He was gone before anyone could tell him otherwise. Krillin watched Vegeta’s jaw tighten, and winced. The spaceship wasn’t going to stop being tense any time soon.

* * *

Vegeta watched Kakarot vanish into the market’s waves of color and scent, biting back a scream of frustration. 

That idiot had better at least get their supplies back to the ship in one piece.

_”If you try to leave him on the ship, he’ll just sneak out again and cause even more trouble,” Nappa warned in clipped Sadalan._

Fucking Kakarot.

The noise and smells of the market were starting to make Vegeta’s head ache. Too many conversations in too many languages, half of which he could follow snatches of. People on every side, any one of whom would be an enemy.

Just a little longer. Then they’d be back on the ship, and the skin between his shoulder blades would finally stop crawling.

Krillin had grasped Bulma by the wrist and started to guide her back toward the ship, no doubt following Raditz or Nappa’s ki to get the direction. Vegeta considered their trajectory, the ache in his head upgrading to a dull thudding.

“This way,” he growled, causing them both to jump. At least they followed, instead of continuing on their path that would have momentarily plowed them straight through a wall of market stalls.

* * *

The market was amazing. Stupid Vegeta, not letting her stop to look at all of these cool gadgets. Bulma bet she could improve her tech capacity in leaps and bounds if only she could get her hands on some of this stuff to play with.

She wished they’d stuck with the earlier version of the travel plan, the one that would have them touching base with their second ship more often. She wanted to meet Bokardi, the awesome hacker friend of Cala’s who could get into a system even faster than Bulma could, and she wanted to hang with Launch. Either hair color would do. 

_”Cala and Zaril are so sweet,” black-haired Launch told her, smiling like she had a secret, “I’m sure you’d get along with them too, Bulma.”_

_In the background, Cala’s brother Aurelin snorted softly and said something that Bulma couldn’t quite catch about Cala’s supposed sweetness._

Tien had been grumbling a lot about how little fighting there was. Fewer prison breaks for their second squad. But the Saiyans were constantly grumbling about that too. Bulma couldn’t believe they were wasting her talents like this. She’d have been totally fine doing all the hacking that needed running onto bases like Bokardi always seemed to be up to, if only her stupid Saiyans would let her.

A mass of grey fur bumped into her, growled in the wispy language that seemed common on this planet, and Bulma stumbled sideways stammering apologies. For a moment the market was an incoherent mass of color and noise, and her breath caught as she looked for Vegeta’s familiar hair and couldn’t find it.

“Bulma, come on.” Krillin wrapped a hand around her wrist again, drawing her eyes, and Bulma breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that he and Vegeta had never been out of arms’ reach. 

It was just a lot harder to recognize Vegeta with his hair all squished down like that. So much sneaking and hiding. 

Stupid PTO.

* * *

Gohan’s head ached. He swallowed hard, then tried lobbing a ki blast at the bars. 

They absorbed it.

_He followed his father’s ki, dodging through a market packed with people that looked like no one on Earth. Feathers, scales, skin that looked like rock, people that looked like plants. So many colors. So many scents assaulting his sensitive nose. How had his father stood it, with his even stronger sense of smell?_

_Ki on all sides, the press of bodies, some normal temperature but some weirdly hot or weirdly cold. He couldn’t see, he was too much shorter than everyone around him._

_Something chittered near him, an acrid smell filled his nose. His head spun even worse than before. The wall of bodies in front of him seemed to tilt, to blur._

Would his dad or his uncle have noticed his absence by now? Would they come after him?

* * *

A large hand wrapped around Vegeta’s right arm. He turned, teeth already bared in a snarl, ki gathering, ready to make the bastard regret laying hands on him.

Light glinted to his left, and instinct launched him away from it even as cold bit and seared his left side. 

Red splashed the ground. Pain flared along his ribs, the side of his stomach. 

The Rabali smiled and charged forward with raised blades.

Roaring, Vegeta slammed his ki free, releasing the hold that kept it dampened away from any nearby scouters. He _pushed_ with his power, and bodies flew away from him, leaving a circle cleared. 

The hand on his arm remained. A Gofislan, he now saw. A friend of the one he dispatched earlier in the ring?

He swung the Gofislan’s body in front of him as a shield, smirked as the Rabali’s blade sliced through the Gofislan’s spine. Judging from the way that the Rabali’s eyes widened in horror, he hadn’t intended that.

“My, you’re not easy on your friends, are you?” Vegeta drawled, firing a ki blast at the distracted Rabali. It charred a hole through the bastard’s chest, and he collapsed in a heap, smoking slightly. 

“What the hell was that?” Krillin’s voice was shrill. He was crouched with his arms wrapped protectively around a shivering Bulma. Vegeta was pleased to note that she was still clutching the bag with the water filter.

Vegeta shrugged, hiding a grimace as it pulled at the old wound in his arm, the fresh would in his side. “I seem to have made some new enemies this afternoon.” 

His side was bleeding badly. Fucking Rabaliad steel. He clamped his right hand against the wound, as subtly as he could.

“You made enemies that bad in just one afternoon?” Krillin’s pitch had not lowered at all. “What the hell did you - no, you know what, never mind, let’s just get out of here.”

“At least one of you has some sense,” Vegeta muttered. Krillin frowned at him, but pulled Bulma to her feet and followed as Vegeta led them back to the ship.

He moved a little faster, this time.

* * *

“Hey,” Raditz smiled as Goku walked in, “looks like you got the parts.”

“Yep!” Goku grinned back, “well, we got whatever Bulma and Vegeta picked out. Where do I put ‘em?”

Raditz waved vaguely sideways and downwards, which Goku figured meant the storage boxes on the lower deck, opposite the showers. 

ChiChi smiled and handed him a cup of tea as he returned to the flight deck. Microwaved from one of their pre-packed bottles, that they’d planned to have as cold tea. Nappa and Raditz were already sipping from their own reheated cups.

Goku’s shoulders relaxed, losing tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding. After the chaos of the market, this was nice and peaceful. Maybe he didn’t need to go back out for food after all.

“Let’s go,” Vegeta snapped, shattering the peace as he stormed through the door. The iron tang of blood filled Goku’s nose.

“Hold on, are you _injured?_ ” Raditz yelped, shoving his tea to the side as he slapped the flight controls awake. 

“Never mind that, just get us off the fucking ground,” Vegeta growled, hitting the wall panel and closing the outer door nearly on Krillin’s heels. Bulma stood shivering in the middle of the room for a moment, knuckles white against the bag she still carried.

The ship whirred to life, the now-familiar background hum taking up residence in Goku’s ears again. 

ChiChi frowned at the blood seeping down Vegeta’s left side, then shook her head and took a seat for lift off. Goku settled in the chair next to Vegeta, ignoring his warning glare.

“Seriously though, who got you?” Goku leaned dangerously far into Vegeta’s space, watched his tail bristle around his waist. “That looks like another sword wound.”

“Good guess,” Vegeta’s tone was sour, “a friend of the one from this afternoon, perhaps.”

Nappa jumped, then spat out something rapid-fire in Sadalan. Vegeta snarled back. Raditz sounded like he was swearing. Goku caught the words Soli and Tor, which he was pretty sure were like the Saiyan version of Kami. 

The ship juddered as the atmosphere heated around it again, and Goku tensed, remembering that Bulma hadn’t had time to fix up the patch yet.

He hoped Gohan was okay. Was he taking a nap downstairs or something? Goku reached out with his ki sense, looking for his son.

Nothing. 

The bottom fell out of Goku’s stomach, as if left behind in the pull of gravity on the ship. Gohan wasn’t here. He stretched his senses desperately, searching, terrified. 

Gohan’s ki brushed his senses for the barest moment, far below on Calyptus, before the ship sped out of range.

“No!” Goku surged to his feet, drawing startled looks from everyone else on the deck, “we have to go back!”

“What? We just left.” Raditz turned to frown at him, attention on the ship lessened now that they’d cleared Calyptus’ atmosphere. “Whatever you forgot back there, it can’t be that important.”

Goku stared back at him, and Raditz’s expression turned to concern. Maybe Goku looked as bad as he felt right now.

“Gohan’s down there. We have to go back.”

Raditz went white, and muttered something in Sadalan that was probably the equivalent of “fuck”.


	12. Off Balance: Falling

Gohan was down there. Goku stared at his brother, sitting frozen at the ship’s controls as they moved farther and farther away from the planet where his son was.

“Raditz, _turn us around_.”

“Don’t,” Nappa growled, “if the brat didn’t even have the discipline to stay on the ship when he was told, he’s nothing but a liability.”

_”He’s my son,”_ Goku heard his own voice crack, “Raditz, please!”

His brother’s eyes flicked to Goku’s left. Vegeta. Sitting silently. 

Goku turned, was met with flat black eyes. “Vegeta, please. We need to go back.”

Vegeta’s face was utterly still. No sneering, no unholy glee, no agreement. Goku had no clue what the hell he was thinking in that moment. 

“Move!” ChiChi snapped, lunging forward and trying to wrestle the controls from Raditz. Raditz yelped in surprised and shouldered her off. Nappa stood and moved threateningly towards ChiChi, and Goku lurched to his feet to cut him off.

“ _Obviously_ we have to go back!” Bulma’s voice rose, “what the hell are you waiting for, turn the ship around!”

Goku turned to Vegeta, saw his expression flick from neutral to furious. He turned a glare on Bulma. “We don’t have to do anything, woman. Nappa’s right, the brat should have followed instructions.”

The world seemed to tilt around Goku. He glanced back at Raditz, suddenly understood with a terrible certainty that his brother wouldn’t go against Vegeta’s orders. Not even for Gohan.

Nappa growled, still standing, looming over all of them. “Whatever scuffle you got into, seems likely it drew PTO attention. Too risky, going back.”

Vegeta grimaced. Goku noticed that his arms weren’t crossed at quite their usual angle. His uninjured right arm was clamped hard against his injured left side. 

“ _Give me that,_ ” ChiChi repeated, still trying to wrestle the controls from Raditz, “my son is down there, if you won’t take us back then I’ll do it myself!”

Damn Vegeta. Goku was half tempted to knock him out and see if that solved Raditz’s dilemma, but the memory of that blank expression kept his clenched fists at his sides. 

Vegeta didn’t look like he’d formed his own opinion yet, he just hated being disagreed with. 

Goku clenched his teeth. “Vegeta, please.” He’d beg as many times as it took if the end result was getting Gohan back.

Vegeta squinted at him, and Goku realized Vegeta was having trouble focusing, swaying slightly in his seat. 

“Some allies you are,” Bulma snapped, furious, “if you don’t turn this ship around right now, then we’re through. Find yourselves a different tech.”

“And a different medic.” ChiChi’s voice was shaking. Goku turned to her, saw tears streaming down her face, trembling fists clenched in fury. 

Vegeta spat something in Sadalan, and Nappa responded in a tone that sounded like agreement. Raditz was more shaky when he spoke up, but fell silent after Vegeta and Nappa snapped at him.

“Just let me get my son back,” Goku pressed again, desperately looking between the hostile faces of the other three Saiyans. “Please.”

The exchange in Sadalan continued, Raditz still sounding upset, Vegeta and Nappa still sounding furious. For the first time, Goku desperately wished that he could speak the Saiyan language.

* * *

He’d known he couldn’t trust these Earthlings. After all, they’d started this alliance of theirs by locking Vegeta and his comrades in cages, by using ki dampeners to take away their power.

He felt the phantom sensation of a band against his right wrist, locking his ki away, and forced himself not to shudder.

Not all of the Earthlings had been prepared to give that power back. Vegeta still didn’t know which ones had voted against him, which meant they were all equally suspect.

“They don’t mean it like that,” Raditz stupidly defended the Earthlings in Sadalan, “from where they sit, we’re the untrustworthy ones, leaving a kid behind.”

“No one asked you to be Earth ambassador,” Vegeta snapped.

“Traitor,” Nappa growled, “you’d side with the Earthlings on this? They’re the damn reason we came to Calyptus in the first place. This is a problem of their own making, they’ve no right to drag us into it any further.”

Kakarot interrupted. “Just let me get my son back, please.” He looked and sounded like his entire world was ending. Vegeta curled his lip in disgust, both at Kakarot’s overreaction and at his use of Standard. 

Such a fuss over a child.

_His father stared down at him, unsympathetic. “I ordered you to stay with Nappa.”_

_Blood dripped down Vegeta’s arm. It hurt, worse than anything he’d encountered in his life. His head ached too, would surely have a lump on it tomorrow._

_“If you cannot follow my orders, then you are nothing but a liability.” Red swished, his father’s cape swirling as he turned his back. “Do not get used to second chances.”_

_Nappa’s hand closed on Vegeta’s uninjured shoulder, encompassing it completely. “Time to go home, sire. Stick close this time.”_

The world was starting to grey at the edges in an alarming way. Just how much blood had he lost?

“If we go back to Calyptus, we’ll probably run into the PTO,” Nappa continued, glared down at Raditz, “you want to run into the PTO, take a nice trip to see Frieza?”

Raditz paled, shuddered, seemed to draw into himself. 

Vegeta became aware that he could no longer feel the fingers of his left hand.

* * *

He missed Piccolo. 

Gohan sat in the cell, arms around his knees. His father’s ki was gone. Moving upward, then away.

His eyes felt wet, and he blinked.

They hadn’t noticed he was missing.

* * *

They were still arguing in Sadalan. They weren’t even _looking_ at him. Goku felt fury spike through him. 

This was a waste of time. They were getting farther away from his son with every second. _They needed to turn around._

“Stop speaking in code!” Krillin yelled, “how are we supposed to trust you when you keep pulling shit like that?”

“Code?” Raditz had been slumped over the controls, face white, but he jolted upright, expression twisting in what almost looked like grief, “it’s our _own fucking language_ , don’t you dare call it code!”

More growling from Nappa, an extensive string of Sadalan. Raditz winced, then gave Goku a look as if he didn’t even know him.

Vegeta was awfully quiet. 

Goku turned just in time to see Vegeta’s eyes fall closed, muscles sliding into the laxness of unconsciousness. Vegeta started to crumple forward, and Goku darted forward to catch him before he could land on the floor.

“Unhand him!” Nappa was loomed behind Goku, snarling in furious normal language, “what the hell did you do to him?”

“I stopped him from landing face first on the floor,” Goku snapped, then had a sudden thought, “if you won’t turn the ship around for Gohan, then how about you agree to turn it around so ChiChi can give Vegeta actual medical treatment?”

It felt wrong, to try to make a bargain like that, but if it would get them headed back towards Gohan, then fine.

Nappa growled, and Raditz looked betrayed. Neither one of them said anything. Goku thought guiltily of prisoners in cages, kept there as leverage by Frieza. 

It didn’t matter. Whatever would get them back to Gohan, he’d do. Besides, this was completely different. 

It occurred to Goku that he could simply use force to get Raditz out of the pilot’s chair, have Bulma take them down to the planet. 

He didn’t think their shaky alliance would ever recover from that. But he wanted his son back a hell of a lot more than he wanted an alliance.

* * *

His head was full of fog. Vegeta tried to parse where he was. There was yelling, Nappa and Kakarot. 

He was sitting at an odd angle. Warm pressure against both his shoulders, holding him upright. Kakarot’s scent surrounded him. 

That brat. Fucking Calyptus. 

Why had he thought he could trust these Earthlings? They’d never given him reason to from the start. Now Kakarot’s folly had forced them to Calyptus, and that brat was going to drag them back there into what would surely be an ambush.

Kakarot stood in front of Vegeta, bending awkwardly to hold him up with an impossibly gentle grip while he continued to argue with Nappa that they needed to go back to Calyptus.

Why hadn’t Kakarot just taken command of the ship by force yet? He could easily do so, with Vegeta wounded as he was.

“He’s a child,” ChiChi interjected into the argument, voice clear with pain, and Vegeta vaguely noted that she’d taken a break from smacking Raditz, “he made a mistake, he doesn’t deserve to die for it. We need to go back.”

So unbearably soft, these Earthlings. As if a mistake made by a child was different to a mistake made by anyone else. 

“Vegeta,” Kakarot abruptly addressed him, apparently realizing that Vegeta was conscious again. Vegeta forced his eyes to focus and squinted at Kakarot. 

“We agreed on ground rules, remember? If your allies are in trouble, you help them.” Kakarot seemed to stare right through him, accusing and pleading all at once, “this is part of that.”

The sheer gall. Vegeta growled. If Kakarot’s brat had stayed on the ship like he’d been told, there’d be no problem. It was the brat who was creating trouble for his allies.

“Vegeta, please,” Raditz said in Sadalan, using a tone that Vegeta had rarely heard him use, “don’t make me leave my family behind.”

Nappa growled. Kakarot stared at Vegeta, tense and upset and pleading. His hands on Vegeta’s shoulders remained remarkably gentle, still the only thing keeping Vegeta upright.

If they didn’t turn around, Kakarot would cease to think of them as allies. All of the Earthlings would. They’d made that abundantly clear.

Which left the option to go back. To fucking Calyptus, which would probably be crawling with PTO agents any second now. They’d done so much damage. If Frieza caught them now, he would be playing a much more painful game.

They’d done so much damage. Vegeta wasn’t ready to dispose of these allies just yet.

* * *

Goku stared at Vegeta, hoping desperately that Vegeta would finally agree to turn around.

He didn’t want Vegeta to be his enemy. He didn’t want his brother and Nappa to be his enemies. It had been surprisingly nice, being around other Saiyans, being around people who were like him in some undefinable way that everyone on Earth just wasn’t. He didn’t want to lose that.

But if the alternative was leaving his son behind on Calyptus, then the alliance would be the thing he sacrificed. 

Vegeta’s gaze was slightly unfocused still, and Goku was distantly impressed that he’d regained consciousness at all. The tang of blood was strong in the air, the untreated wound on Vegeta’s side still bleeding sluggishly. His shoulders felt unaccountably small under Goku’s hands, and despite everything Goku acutely missed Vegeta’s usual overwhelming presence.

Vegeta blinked, shook his head slightly, said something in Sadalan that Goku couldn’t understand. Raditz sucked in a breath and turned to wrestle with the ship’s controls. Nappa growled, and Vegeta growled back, until Nappa grimaced and fell silent. 

“Raditz?” Goku stared at his brother, spoke softly, hoping against hope.

Raditz turned, smiled weakly. “We’re going back, Kakarot. You’d damn well better find him fast.”

* * *

Kakarot watched him now with something soft in his face, and Vegeta hated it. “Thank you, Vegeta.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Vegeta growled, “if the PTO shows up, we’ll leave both you idiots there.”

“Okay,” Kakarot smiled, looking stupidly relieved, “I’d rather be stuck there with him than abandon him like that.”

Was this normal for Earthlings?

_He stood at Frieza’s left hand, spine rigid, face forced smooth, and watched his father bow and leave him. Frieza chuckled, ugly fat tail tapping his throne in a disorienting beat, and smiled at Vegeta as if he were dessert._

“Keep the scanners open,” Vegeta ordered Raditz in Sadalan, watched as Raditz nodded tensely. 

ChiChi turned. “Goku, please bring Vegeta to the medbay so I can treat those wounds.”

Vegeta tried to ignore the flash of relief, growled in protest as Kakarot very gently helped him up, ducking under Vegeta’s good shoulder and wrapping an arm around Vegeta’s waist to keep him upright.

Fucking Earthlings. Always too soft.

* * *

Raditz felt ill as he guided the ship back down into Calpytus’ atmosphere. 

His nephew was down there. He needed him back.

Frieza would kill them slowly and painfully if he caught them. Raditz wasn’t ready to die yet. 

He glanced at his brother. Kakarot looked calm and steady. No fucking clue. Enough to make Raditz jealous, twisting sour through the fear.

* * *

His father’s ki exploded nearby, and Gohan stood, barely stopped himself from grabbing the bars. “Dad!”

Suddenly he was there, face grim with determination, gi bright in the gloom of the building. The room around Gohan shattered, dissolving under the wash of his father’s ki. 

Strong arms wrapped around Gohan and suddenly he was safe again, face buried in soft orange against his father’s shoulder. “Sorry I took so long, Gohan. Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

“Unbelievable,” Nappa growled in Sadalan, glaring around the room at large before he stomped into the kitchen. Raditz glanced sideways at Vegeta, who was reclined in the co-pilot’s seat with his eyes closed and his feet propped on the dash, only the slight twitch of his tail betraying that he was awake. He’d found time to grab a fresh shirt, hiding his bandages under long sleeves. For someone who’d lost enough blood to fall unconscious less than an hour ago, he looked remarkably well. But then, he’d always healed fast, even for a Saiyan.

In the distance Kakarot’s ki grew impossibly larger. Raditz hoped that meant he’d found Gohan. The flight deck was tense behind him, all three of the Earthlings staying blessedly silent. 

An alert chirped softly on the dash, nearly inaudible. Vegeta’s eyes snapped open.

Their ship had picked up broadcasts on one of the main PTO frequencies. A patrol was too damn close for comfort.

Fear twisted through Raditz’s stomach. For himself or his brother, he wasn’t sure. 

The deck stayed silent.

Holding his breath, Raditz flicked his eyes sideways to Vegeta. His prince met his gaze with narrowed eyes and no orders.

Air rushed out of Raditz’s lungs with a soft whoosh. He turned to stare in the direction of Kakarot’s ki.

They weren’t leaving yet. His brother had better hurry the fuck up.

* * *

“Yes, my Lord Zarbon,” Garao bowed through the vid screen, “we’re close to Calyptus. Please allow me to investigate these rumors for you.”

Zarbon smiled, assented, cut the connection. Turned to survey the records of the ten locations of the Saiyan’s ship, brought by Appule. None of them were anywhere near Calyptus. The one identified as having occupants, via their audio tapping, was several solar systems away, 240,000 petameters from Calyptus. 

Zarbon frowned, tapped an index finger against his desk. Perhaps this lead was nothing. Garao would find out shortly whether following up on it was worth another milli-minute of Zarbon’s time.

* * *

Goku rested his head on Gohan’s hair, closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of his son’s shoulders under his arm. Calyptus has vanished into the distance long ago.

He’d got his son back.

Gohan burrowed closer against Goku’s side, fist closing tighter in Goku’s gi. Strong and brave as his son was, that had been one hell of a close call.

_Raditz listened to Gohan’s stumbling description then shuddered. “You were damn lucky, kid. Sounds like Alvesan slavers. Nasty business.”_

There were so many kinds of enemies out there that Goku didn’t know how to fight. Sure he was stronger than those slavers, Gohan was stronger than those slavers, but what good did that do when they were up against sneak attacks and knockout gas?

Too damn close.

Nappa strode back onto the deck and growled something in Sadalan at Raditz. Goku tried to remember the last time he’d heard Nappa speak Earth language, which Raditz said was actually called Galactic Standard. 

Not since Krillin had called Sadalan “code”, he didn’t think.

* * *

They’d made it. Close as the PTO had been, their luck had somehow still held long enough to get back off of fucking Calpytus. 

Vegeta chewed on an already ragged thumbnail, safe in the privacy of his bunk. His wounds throbbed dully. 

_“You could have left them alive,” Nappa snarled in Sadalan, “instead of making enemies of their kin and their supporters.”_

Fucking fighting pits. He couldn’t even blow off stress by killing his opponents without it making more problems.

Kakarot’s fault, all of it. Vegeta didn’t know why he’d done something so soft, letting Kakarot go back to rescue his fool of a son.

The PTO scouts had missed them. He laughed, listened to the echo off the walls, at the thought of how Frieza would howl if he knew how close they’d been.

* * *

ChiChi sat down on Gohan’s other side, squeezed his hand. Gohan looked up at her, and his face crumpled. Goku smiled softly, watching as Gohan shifted away to burrow into his mother’s shoulder instead. ChiChi wrapped both arms around her son as if she intended to never let go. 

Goku felt apart, for a moment. Glanced up around the room, stretching his neck, when had he gotten so stiff?

Raditz was sitting in the pilot’s chair still. He started and looked away when Goku turned toward him. 

“Hey.” Goku stood, walked over to squeeze his brother’s shoulder. Raditz’s hair was still in its camouflaging braids, out of place with how tense the deck was. “You doing okay?”

“Am I—?” Raditz gave up, just stared at him. 

“Want some tea?” Goku asked, breaking the silence, “I could give you a hand getting your hair loose, too.”

Raditz swallowed hard and followed Goku into the kitchen. On impulse, Goku turned and wrapped his brother in a hug once the door swished shut behind them. The grip Raditz returned was crushing, and Goku suddenly felt tiny squished against his brother’s broad chest.

“I’m so sorry, Kakarot,” Raditz whispered, speaking into Goku’s hair, “I shouldn’t have hesitated.”

Goku squeezed his brother’s rib cage harder, then pulled himself away a little when Raditz stayed silent and tense, looked up to meet his eyes. “You spoke up for him, didn’t you? In Sadalan.”

Raditz shifted his weight. “Yeah.”

“Then you helped,” Goku told him, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Now let me get that tea started.”

He busied himself with reheating some of the prepacked stuff, hoping that they’d be able to land again soon so Bulma could fix the water up. 

If his new focus gave Raditz some time to blink his eyes dry, well, that was just a bonus.

* * *

This was a bad idea. He should just turn around and walk away.

But it had been an awfully long time since Vegeta came downstairs, and Goku had hardly noticed him eat anything all day, and Raditz was busy poking at the ship’s controls to get them to safe harbor for their much needed repairs.

He knocked softly on the door, then pressed the panel to open it after waiting a while with no response. What if Vegeta had passed out from blood loss or something?

Goku wanted to at least thank him again, for finally seeing sense about going back to get Gohan.

Vegeta’s eyes flicked toward him, but for a moment he just looked normal instead of dangerous. Goku was surprised to see him holding a book.

“Sorry, did I interrupt?” Goku blurted. Yeah, of course he had. Vegeta blinked, then abruptly seemed to remember how to glare, tried it out on Goku.

“You, uh, you missed dinner?” Yeah, not lessening Vegeta’s glare, “so, uh, I thought I should check that you were still conscious?”

Vegeta’s tail flicked in annoyance, and Goku was slapped with a feeling of loss that he no longer had a tail to say anything back with. He settled for shifting his weight, crossing his arms uncomfortably as he leaned against the door frame. 

“Get out,” Vegeta told him, making it more of a statement than anything else. 

“Right,” Goku pushed himself back upright, hesitated despite Vegeta’s narrowed eyes, “just, um. I wanted to thank you.”

That black gaze seemed to slice right through him. “Then start fucking taking this seriously.”

Bandages were wrapped around Vegeta’s arm under his long-sleeved shirt, more around his torso. If Goku had been more careful back at the prison, those wouldn’t be there.

They wouldn’t have had to come to Calyptus. Gohan wouldn’t have spent the day imprisoned by slavers. 

“How much longer til we can stop sneaking and just train to fight Frieza head on?” Goku blurted.

Vegeta’s face twisted, his tail fluffling. “You think I don’t want to? You think this is my idea of a fucking good time?”

“No, I—,” Goku walked into the room, dropped to sit on the edge of Vegeta’s bed so that they’d be eye level. “I just, how do we know when enough is enough? That it’s time to train?”

Vegeta closed his eyes. He looked exhausted. 

Maybe he didn’t know either. Goku sighed, bit his tongue against any more questions, stared at the floor. These rooms were so tiny.

“We’re going to train now,” Vegeta said, sounding almost surprised. Goku glanced at him, was frowned at. “Not right this minute, but at our next stop. After the emergency stop.”

So many steps to get through. Goku could never keep track of that all. He just grinned, relieved to have some kind of time frame.

Vegeta’s lips quirked up slightly also, a softer expression than his usual smirk. 

Goku guessed that they’d found something to agree on.

* * *

Zarbon reclined in his chair, watching the stars beyond the port of his personal quarters. A glass of wine sat by his hand. White, not the red that his lord favored.

His scouter chirped. Garao.

“You have a report?” He had better, calling Zarbon’s personal line at this hour.

“A name,” Garao told him smugly. “Vegeta.”

Rage flooded Zarbon down to his fingertips. “You have my full attention.”

“Medic at the fighting pits heard someone call the small fighter that, same one that you got the report about. Power 26,000, cut through the opposition out of nowhere.”

“You have done well, Garao,” Zarbon wasted a smile on the starry vista outside, “you will be rewarded handsomely.”

The line cut. Zarbon sipped his wine and contemplated the best way to catch a monkey.


	13. Flipped Sideways: Damaged

Gohan froze halfway through the hatch up from the lower deck. Vegeta stood in the doorway between medbay and kitchen, glaring. 

“Um,” Gohan searched for his mother’s ki, found it next to Bulma’s in their shared room. Probably sleeping. “Are you okay? Should I go get my mo— the medic?”

Vegeta growled, tail flicking before curling around his waist. “No need.”

Cautiously, Gohan pulled himself the rest of the way into the kitchen. His mother had explained what happened, how the Saiyans nearly hadn’t agreed to turn back to Calyptus when Gohan was left behind.

She’d also said that Vegeta had agreed to it, eventually.

“Thank you,” Gohan told Vegeta cautiously, struggling to interpret the expression on Vegeta’s face, “for coming back to get me.”

Another growl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Okay.” Gohan cautiously shuffled to the counter, grabbed one of the water bottles that he’d come for. Vegeta’s face had returned to a standard glare. He didn’t have his arms crossed like he normally would, and held himself carefully. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He’d been in the medbay, after all. 

“You talk too much,” Vegeta told him. That actually wasn’t something that people told Gohan very often.

The growling and the glaring reminded Gohan of his first year training with Piccolo, right after his dad died. Piccolo didn’t like talking much either. He really did care about his friends, though. People always misjudged him because he acted so grumpy.

Gohan wondered if Vegeta was similar. He’d turned the ship around in the end, after all.

* * *

Raditz stared glumly at his charts again. They really needed to land and get that damn water filter fixed. 

Luckily it wasn’t too hard to find places with atmosphere, and they already had all the parts on board. Maybe Soli’s guidance could buy them enough time on the ground of Medurih to actually finish the damn repair.

The flight deck door swished, and Vegeta came in. Raditz could smell him across the damn room. They all really needed showers. 

“How long?” Vegeta dropped sideways across the co-pilot seat, twisting open a bottle of water. Raditz pretended not to notice that he fumbled it slightly, left hand still clumsy.

“Should be just another couple hours.” Soli and Tor he hoped they could get to the ground and regroup for real this time.

Vegeta didn’t answer, gulping down his water and what looked like more painkillers instead. Raditz added a note on their resupply chart to pick up more of those next time they raided a base. Those and water. Lots of water.

“You don’t need to stare at the charts the entire couple hours,” Vegeta told him obliquely. 

Raditz grinned, licked his lips. Vegeta was watching him intently. “You have something more fun in mind?”

“Mmm,” Vegeta glanced at the mess of Raditz’s hair, “though you’re hardly looking your best.”

He hadn’t gotten around to taking all the braids out yet, and where they had come out his hair was weirdly wavy now. Still, Raditz rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not likely to start bleeding all over the place halfway through.”

Vegeta growled and half-heartedly kicked him in the shoulder. 

It was a good idea. They could duck back downstairs, blow off some steam. Raditz’s blood was already heating with anticipation. Sex was one of the few times he could really get close to Vegeta, and he craved it, the urgency and roughness. 

The door swished open as Kakarot walked through, looking disoriented and needing a shower just as bad as the rest of them, and Raditz grimaced. With four Saiyan noses on the small ship, no showers meant no privacy. 

Vegeta cared a lot about his privacy. Raditz greeted his tired brother before reluctantly sharing his observation with Vegeta in Sadalan, watched as Vegeta’s expression shuttered subtlety. Back to business. 

Kakarot seemed to somehow pick up on the change in Vegeta’s mood too, frowning at them. Had Kakarot always paid that much attention to Vegeta? Most people found him hard to read, but Kakarot half acted like he’d known Vegeta for as long as Raditz had. 

Raditz shook himself and turned his attention back to tracking their ship’s progress. He couldn’t wait to fucking land.

* * *

Bulma wiped a hand across her forehead, but it did nothing to relieve the stickiness that she’d felt coating her since they landed. Medurih was incredibly humid, the whole planet’s climate like Earth’s tropics.

At least they could breathe the air. 

She leaned forward to inspect the newly installed water filter. Everything looked perfect. Reaching to her ear, she activated her communicator. “Raditz, give it a shot now.”

“Copy that.” She heard the soft swish of water through the piping as he restarted the system, finally bringing it out of the emergency shut-off it had sat in for the past week. 

Raditz had turned out to be a good helper. He knew a decent amount about ship technology, had explained to her that all three of the Saiyans had made a point to learn enough to do minor repairs themselves. Apparently PTO ships had a bad habit of breaking down mid-mission.

Vegeta had dragged Goku off somewhere for a sparring session instead of hanging around to help, and Nappa was still refusing to speak anything but Sadalan, but Raditz had eagerly volunteered to lend hands to the repair effort. 

“All systems look clear from this end, Bulma,” Raditz updated, “how’s it looking up close?”

Bulma grinned. “Looks perfect. I call dibs on first shower.”

Raditz laughed. “All yours. You want for me to finish up the patch?”

So that they could take off again at a moment’s notice if more trouble showed up, Bulma realized. They were still on the edge.

“Yeah, thanks buddy.” With the new paneling they’d picked up on Calyptus, Raditz would have no trouble getting the ship sealed up good as new. Take-off would be a lot less stressful once that was wrapped up.

* * *

Fucking Medurih. Too damn sticky. Vegeta brushed aside Kakarot’s punch, returned a kick to Kakarot’s abdomen that knocked him backwards coughing for breath. Kakarot frowned and returned a kick of his own, aiming at Vegeta’s knee.

The bastard had been avoiding landing any blows to Vegeta’s left side or abdomen for the entire time. It was insulting. Soft pathetic Earth-raised fool.

Vegeta hooked Kakarot’s ankle out from under him, using their momentum to toppled Kakarot to the ground with Vegeta’s right hand wrapped around his neck.

“Okay, you win,” Kakarot yielded with embarrassing speed, “now get off of me? It’s too hot as it is.”

He had a point. The burn of Kakarot’s body heat was uncomfortable against Vegeta’s thighs, only worsened by the planet’s humidity that had them both sweating even before they’d started to spar. He grimaced and stood.

“Phew.” Kakarot pushed himself into a sitting position, then stripped off his blue shirt, the red upper layer having already been left on the ship. Vegeta found his eyes tracing the bared muscles without meaning to, admiring the definition bought by hard training. Medurih’s heat had brought a flush to Kakarot’s pale skin, spreading downward from his neck. The sweat beading at his collar bone only accentuated it.

Kakarot kicked off his boots next, and Vegeta wondered for a moment if his pants would follow. He was suddenly warmer than even Medurih’s atmosphere could account for.

“Aren’t you hot in that?” Kakarot gestured vaguely at Vegeta’s entire body, encompassing the gloves, boots, and long-sleeved Earth shirt that he wore over the pants from his battlesuit. 

Yes. The heat was stifling, and the bandages still wrapped around his torso and arm underneath the extra layer of the shirt only made it worse, sweat stinging and heat prickling against the still healing wounds.

He didn’t want to reveal the fucking bandages, though.

“Honestly it would be easier if I could see where your bandages are, I don’t want to reopen one of those wounds and slow down your healing.”

Vegeta growled, consciously forcing his tail to remain safely around his waist. This was a fight, after all. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Why not?” Kakarot pushed himself to his bare feet, looking puzzled. “We’re allies, so of course I want you to heal up as fast as possible.”

That sounded confusingly sensible. Vegeta hesitated, tempted. It would certainly be more comfortable. Kakarot wasn’t actually an enemy, after all, was already well aware of the existence of Vegeta’s wounds. 

Shrugging, Vegeta kicked off his boots before moving onto his gloves, tamping down the prickle of unease that came along with removing his shirt to expose the weakness of those bandages on a battlefield.

* * *

Goku had seen Vegeta shirtless before, back on Earth and a handful of times on the spaceship as they crossed paths near the showers, but his eyes were still always drawn to the scars layering Vegeta’s torso. He guessed Vegeta would have a couple new ones from Calyptus.

If he asked, would Vegeta tell him where the others had come from?

“Let’s go, then,” Vegeta said, dropping into a fighting stance opposite Goku, skin almost seeming golden in the heat and yellow light of this planet.

Goku licked his lips without meaning to, feeling something shiver in his belly, and took his own stance. 

Vegeta lunged first, fast and deadly. Goku angled sideways to avoid the punch, smacked Vegeta backwards with his open palm against Vegeta’s chest, well clear of the bandages. Bare skin burned under his fingers, distracting him for a moment, and Vegeta took advantage to kick Goku in the chin. Damn but he was flexible. 

Goku rolled backwards with the blow, bleeding off the momentum, then surged to his feet to dart back towards Vegeta, taking advantage of his weakened left side this time. They were using fighting pit style rules, no flying or ki blasts, power dampened from full to avoid attracting too much attention, and it forced them to continually engage at close range.

Vegeta ducked as Goku threw a punch towards the left side of his head, coming back up to drive his right fist into Goku’s stomach. Goku coughed, doubling over with the surprise and pain of it, and Vegeta smacked him down and pinned him again.

Goku grinned. “That arm isn’t slowing you down much.” That was twice now that Vegeta had taken him down effortlessly with only one working arm. It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t stupid enough to try to punch with the injured one and risk reopening the wound.

Vegeta scowled, the heat of him once again scalding Goku through their clothing. “You’re not even trying.”

“That’s not true.” Goku was definitely still trying to win, here. He was just also trying to be careful not to make his ally bleed all over the place when they had such limited medical supplies.

It would have been a whole different story if Korin hadn’t had such a struggle to grow senzu beans these last three years. 

Vegeta made an annoyed noise. “Are you yielding, or not?”

“Oh, yeah, I yield.” So that was why Vegeta was still sitting on him.

They both took fighting stances again. Goku felt soggy with the heat, and Vegeta’s form didn’t look as crisp as usual. 

Maybe they could head back after the next round and see if the showers were finally fixed.

* * *

Vegeta had been sighted on Calyptus, but none of the ten ships had tracking information that would have made that possible.

Zarbon tried to make sense of this as he waited outside the throne room. Perhaps Vegeta had split off from the main group, and was no longer on the same ship?

The door hissed open. “Lord Frieza will see you now.”

Zarbon strode past the latest attendant, and did not let it show in his expression how much it chilled him to have been kept waiting for so long.

“Mr Zarbon.” Frieza smiled, tapped a finger against the edge of his throne. No wine today, Zarbon noted, which could mean he was less interested in theatrics, or could mean he wanted both hands free to dispense punishment.

“My Lord.” Zarbon sank into a kneeling bow, head low, and rigidly held his position. Frieza did not invite him to stand.

“Your work of late has fallen short of its usual standards,” Frieza told him. 

Keeping his head lowered also served to hide his expression. “My Lord, my most humble apologies. I had not wanted to trouble you with details in the interim.”

“Most considerate of you, Mr Zarbon,” there was a rhythmic tapping, louder than fingers, Frieza’s tail against the throne, “however, I cannot but notice how long this interim has lasted.”

He was on thin ice. Zarbon breathed in carefully, trying to steady himself. “Most regrettably so, my Lord. I hope to have it dealt with shortly.”

“Hope has nothing to do with it.” Frieza’s tone twisted, ugly and promising consequences. Zarbon cursed his slip of phrase. “Mr Zarbon, you have disgraced yourself on all counts. I trusted you to manage these rebels and instead more of them sprout daily like weeds. If you do not make progress within the next myria, I will find someone more suited to your position to relieve you.”

Zarbon had seen what happened to those relieved of their duties. He was not eager to face that fate himself. “I will make progress, my Lord.”

If not on the damnable Saiyans then at least on the Planet 908 issue. He needed a win, immediately.

* * *

“Dad!” Gohan barreled into Goku as he touched down outside the ship. 

“Easy there,” Goku laughed, wrapping his son in a hug. He held on a little longer than usual, still relieved to have Gohan back after that near miss on Calyptus. 

Thank Kami that Vegeta had agreed before it had come to blows. Goku didn’t want to think about the consequences for their alliance if he’d had to go that far. Vegeta was all made of prickly pride and stubbornness. Goku didn’t think he’d soon forget any real challenge to his authority.

“Hey, Goku.”

“Bulma!” He grinned at his oldest friend. “Good job on the showers.”

She laughed and reached up to ruffle his damp hair. “Thank Kami you’ve gotten civilized enough to make use of them.”

Goku hrrmphd and stuck his tongue out at her, getting more laughter. So maybe he had been a little bit wild and unconcerned about how he smelled as a kid. That was a long time ago.

“Hey, I need to go into the nearby city for a bit, Cala told me someone who I should talk to,” Bulma was serious again, “come with?”

“Yeah, of course.” No way Goku was letting her wander around on this planet without proper backup. 

Plus, Bulma had been asking Cala about places where it would be possible to actually get some sparring in. Goku itched with anticipation to actually let loose in a spar against Vegeta, using his kaioken and strength for real, instead of the limited version they’d had to restrict themselves to on this stopover planet. The idea that they might be able to start training for real soon sent electricity through his veins. 

ChiChi looked up from her spot in the sun. “Oh, Goku, could you go grab Vegeta first and remind him to let me check on his injuries?”

“He still hasn’t yet?” That was weird, Vegeta had ducked into the showers ahead of Goku, warning him off with a typical scowl. ChiChi shook her head.

Vegeta’s ki was in the ship, easy enough for Goku to track to his room. “Hey, Vegeta?”

No response. Goku was surprised to realize that Raditz’s ki was there too, but they were both keeping quiet.

“I know you’re in there.” Goku poked at the door panel, was surprised again to find it locked. “C’mon, at least say something. ChiChi wants you to come up and get your wounds checked over.”

“I’ll come when I’m ready,” Vegeta growled, voice even rougher than usual. 

“Well, alright.” Goku frowned at the still closed door. “Don’t complain to me when she gets after you about it next.”

Vegeta just growled again, voice somehow slightly off. What were they even doing in there with the door locked?

Goku shrugged and headed back upstairs, trying to push away the weird tingly feeling that Vegeta’s roughened voice had settled in his stomach.

* * *

Fucking Kakarot and his interruptions. Vegeta took a couple more minutes in the showers to get rid of any scent evidence from his activities with Raditz, then reluctantly went to let the medic prod at him.

“You should have come sooner,” she scolded, stripping off the bandages now caked in dried sweat underneath their waterproof outer layer, “keeping these clean will help them heal faster, you know.”

He did desperately want to heal faster. With any luck their next stop would be suitable for proper training, and he needed to be healed first to take full advantage of that.

_Zarbon slapped him across the face with a vicious backhand, and Vegeta staggered into the wall behind him. So much power in that swing._

_“The next time you question my orders, Vegeta, you will not get off so lightly,” Zarbon sneered. Vegeta clenched his jaw against the snarls trying to spill out._

“Look at this,” ChiChi tsk’d, swabbing stinging antiseptic against the slice in his left bicep. Vegeta grit his teeth. “You shouldn’t have been out there sparring with Goku at all, now your wounds are all irritated, and you’ve torn three stitches in your arm!”

“Just fix it.” Vegeta told her sharply.

She glared, unimpressed. “That would be a lot easier to do if you’d follow my medical advice.”

_Recoome swatted the back of Vegeta’s head, a lazy gesture that pitched Vegeta forwards and sideways into the wall, jarring the still healing wound across his chest._

_“Tough luck, little dude!” Recoome grinned stupidly, Jeice and Burter snickering behind him. “Maybe if you trained some more you’d be able to clear a little planet like Rabaliat without getting all sliced up.”_

_Vegeta swallowed down his snarl, trying to see past the red haze of fury rising in his vision, and just barely managed to keep his mouth shut._

_The Ginyu goons just laughed and sauntered down the hallway, secure in the knowledge that they stood too far above the rest of the PTO’s forces to ever face a comparable humiliation._

“I can’t just sit around doing nothing,” Vegeta snapped at the infuriating medic, “we don’t have that kind of time to waste.”

ChiChi was still unimpressed. “That’s exactly why you need to let yourself heal as fast as possible.” She’d moved onto the scrape at his side, not deep enough to expose organs but still cutting far enough that it needed medical tape to seal the edges together while his skin knit. She briskly began replacing those, half the previous batch starting to peel off after his sweaty spar. “You Saiyans heal so fast, if you’d just rest you’d be good as new within a week.”

Vegeta wrinkled his nose at the scolding and the Earth time unit. That was about half a myria, he thought. Not long in the scheme of things, but he felt as if he’d crawl out of his skin if he didn’t burn off some energy while there was a planet here to do it on.

Though Raditz did provide some alternative methods.

_He leaned against the wall, metal chill against his damp skin, and sank into the familiarity of Raditz’s mouth, twisting the fingers of his uninjured right hand through Raditz’s hair as Raditz kneeled before him._

Kakarot’s interruption had created an unwelcome confusion in Vegeta’s mind, familiar sensation and unexpected voice mingling. 

“Almost done,” ChiChi sighed, starting to wrap the final set of bandages around his torso, “these will all need changing again in another six hours.”

Earth-hours, probably. “I can change bandages myself,” Vegeta grumbled.

“Not on your arm and torso you can’t, the angles won’t work.” 

Vegeta scooped up a roll of bandages with his tail, thumping it against ChiChi’s stomach. She blinked. “Huh. Or maybe you could. I forgot you have an entire extra limb to work with.”

Satisfied, Vegeta dropped the bandages back to the table, resting his tail by his thigh again. Well clear of the bandaging operation taking place near his waist. It would feel awkward to have her hands brushing against it.

“I wonder if Goku misses his,” ChiChi added as an afterthought. “And Gohan.”

“Gohan had one?” Vegeta hadn’t really expected that the half Saiyan would.

“Yes, he was born with one,” ChiChi frowned slightly. “It was gone when he came back from his year of intensive training. He doesn’t remember how.”

Vegeta failed to suppress a shudder at the idea. He ignored the sympathetic glance that ChiChi gave him. “And Kakarot?”

“Kami removed his,” ChiChi said, as if removing an entire limb was some kind of minor detail, “you’d have to ask Goku for more details, but Kami did ask first.”

The world was suddenly sideways. “He just _agreed_ to that?” Vegeta was sure his shock showed in his tone, but ChiChi was just a harmless medic, it didn’t really matter.

She shrugged. “Like I said, you’d have to ask Goku.”

Vegeta scowled at the back wall of the medbay, neatly lined with medical supplies secured behind transparent cupboard doors, and wondered what possible reason a Saiyan could have for letting someone remove one of their sources of power, one of their defining parts. 

Indeed, it seemed a conversation with Kakarot was in order.

* * *

“Kakarot!” 

Goku reluctantly opened his eyes, but stayed seated as Vegeta stormed up to him. Did Vegeta really have to interrupt him in the middle of his evening meditation with whatever this was? He’d been making good progress on settling into his preparations for another level of kaioken. 

Vegeta stopped in front of him, making an aborted movement as if to cross his arms before settling for propping his right hand on his hip. Goku tried not to let the posture remind him too much of ChiChi. 

“Why would you let someone remove your tail?” Vegeta demanded out of nowhere. 

Goku blinked. “That was ages ago. What are you bringing that up for?” Vegeta scowled down at him, and Goku sighed, waved at the ground. “At least sit down.”

Still glaring, Vegeta dropped to sit cross-legged opposite Goku, resting his left arm gingerly on his left leg while the fingers of his right hand drummed an agitated beat against his other knee. Goku noticed that Vegeta’s own tail had settled against the low plant cover on this planet that passed for grass, twitching in agitation that mirrored his hand movements. 

“Well?” Vegeta demanded, “explain yourself.”

He’d been thinking about his tail a lot lately. Seeing the other three Saiyans with theirs still attached, occasionally used for picking things up and frequently used for expressing emotions, had made Goku miss his own tail in a way he never had until now.

Goku shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well, it just didn’t seem like that big a deal at the time. No one else I knew had one, and Kami seemed to think it would really be a good idea to take it off.”

“And you just _let him?_ ” Vegeta was visibly horrified, and Goku felt a flush of shame. 

“I get by just fine without it,” he defended. 

The horror turned to disgust, and Goku was surprised by how the expression hurt. Since when did he care so much what Vegeta thought of him?

Vegeta shook his head. “I shouldn’t have expected anything else, from an Earth-weak traitor.”

“I’m not weak,” Goku spat, offended. “I’m not a traitor either,” he added as an afterthought.

A cold sneer spread across Vegeta’s face. “Let’s see how you feel about your strength if we ever have space to spar during a full moon.”

“What’s the moon got to do with it?”

“You don’t even know _that?_ ” Vegeta abruptly laughed, the kind with the wild edge that made him sound like a scarier version of one of those villains on Gohan’s cartoon shows. Back when Gohan was a normal enough kid to watch them. “Well, Kakarot, you’ll just have to enjoy the surprise when the opportunity arises.”

“Okay?” Goku felt unaccountably prickly about this whole conversation. “Can I go back to my meditation now?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes then left, somehow managing to convey deep disdain with just a flick of his tail. Goku bit his lip in frustration, wondered why the hell his eyes were being drawn to Vegeta’s ass outlined in his way too tight PTO pants, and tried to focus back on his meditation.

He didn’t need any moon transformations, whatever those were. Just his kaioken.


	14. Flipped Sideways: Betrayal

Goku grinned as he settled into his seat for takeoff, excitement thrumming in his veins.

They were finally, finally going somewhere that they could spar properly.

_”So,” Bulma told them excitedly as she grabbed a spit of meat from the campfire, one of the little human-portion sizes, “I got in touch with that guy Cala told me about, and we’ve got a new destination.”_

Part of a bigger resistance network, or something. Goku only really cared that this other, bigger resistance had bases on planets outside of the PTO’s territory, and that they were happy for a couple of super strong fighters to train there in preparation for beating Frieza.

_Nappa muttered something in Sadalan. Vegeta snapped back, touching off a quick back and forth while Raditz looked tense and unhappy, before Vegeta growled and turned to the Earth team. “This could be a trap. How do we know we can trust this contact?”_

_Bulma shrugged. “We don’t have any way of getting 100% certainty. But as much as Raditz and I could tell from going over the data bases, everything they told us checks out.”_

Goku figured it was worth the risk anyway, and if it turned out to be a trap they’d just be fighting for real instead of training. Vegeta, usually more cautious, seemed to be in agreement this time.

They’d finally get to let loose. Goku couldn’t wait to try out his new, higher kaioken boosts on Vegeta, couldn’t wait to fight Vegeta when he wasn’t already injured for once. The guy spent way too much time scraped up from one fight or another. 

He was also, weirdly, looking forward to the fact that it would be Vegeta he’d be training with. Vegeta was all fiery temper and sharp angles, moods changing faster than Goku could keep up with most of the time, but Goku found him fascinating. He kept wondering if there’d be some moment when the puzzle of Vegeta finally clicked into place, when it would feel like they properly knew each other. He’d half thought Vegeta was a monster plenty of times, but then at the last minute he’d about face and do the right thing, or snap out an explanation that actually made sense. 

Goku wondered what Vegeta would have turned out like if he’d had the chance to grow up on Earth, instead of being sucked into the PTO.

“And we’re up,” Raditz announced cheerfully from his usual pilot’s seat, “next stop Bfutar.”

* * *

Zarbon examined the unfortunate sod in front of him. “Are you ready to answer my questions now, rebel scum?”

The bastard had the nerve to spit on Zarbon’s boot. He’d have to get that filth cleaned off later. For now he settled for backhanding the prisoner across the face, knocking him hard against the restraints holding him to his chair. 

“I know that your little rebellion on Rachitora has been spreading,” Zarbon nodded to the nearby special technician, who added another nail beneath the Gunai’s claws. “I’m making you a generous offer. Tell me one other planet that you traitors are using, and you get to keep breathing.”

The Gunai remained quiet, looking at Zarbon with hatred. Useless. One of those types that placed no value on their own life. Pity they had only captured the one individual from 908’s formerly hidden base on Frieza Planet 274, else they could have used another’s life as leverage. 

“Lord Zarbon, sir,” Appule stood in the doorway saluting crisply, having scraped by so far without demotion, “you should come and see this.”

* * *

Vegeta sailed backwards through the air to make a satisfying crater in a nearby cliff, and Goku grinned, raced after him. 

“Who’s earth-weak now, Vegeta?” 

He couldn’t help it. After putting up with Vegeta’s attitude for so long, it felt _good_ to let loose training against him.

Vegeta roared and exploded from the cliff, slamming into Goku with a tackle that pinned Goku’s arms to his sides. Goku twisted, alarmed, as Vegeta sped him headfirst towards the ground, releasing Goku at the last second to swerve up and sneer down at Goku now lying in a crater of his own. 

Growling back, Goku shook off the rocky debris and threw a mid-strength Kamehameha at Vegeta. It was easy for Vegeta to dodge, smirking, but harder for him to avoid the follow-up blast that Goku launched at his face as he flew towards Vegeta. Eyes wide, Vegeta swerved just in time to avoid that one too, only for Goku to catch him in the back with the first Kamehameha, set to return on a curve for just this reason.

Vegeta slammed back to the ground, landing off-center in Goku’s crater. Goku immediately dove down to plant his knee hard in Vegeta’s back, drawing a cough, as he twisted Vegeta’s arms up behind him. That ought to do it for this round.

He was abruptly yanked off balance, something curling around his ankle and throwing him sideways. His grip slipped off Vegeta’s hands and Vegeta twisted, viper quick, to blast ki point blank into Goku’s chest. 

Behind Vegeta, his tail curved with satisfaction before whipping back around his waist.

“No fair!” Goku protested, skipping backwards out of range of the flurry of punches and kicks Vegeta launched as follow-up.

“It’s your own fault you only have four limbs, Kakarot.” Vegeta was unrepentant. 

He was such an asshole. Goku didn’t need to keep being nice, then.

They exchanged more blows, blocking and attacking, circling each other. Goku kept his kaioken steady at four times, where it left his ki feeling about the same as Vegeta’s power level. That made this a test of skill and technique, not brute force. Way more fun, and when Goku pushed up to the six times that was his new limit, he’d have much more power to utilize those freshly honed skills. 

Zenkai boosts like the one he’d got from his fight with Dodoria were great. Nice to finally have a name for them, too.

Vegeta twisted in a fluid kick, just barely slow enough for Goku to duck, and Goku saw the opening he’d been waiting for. 

He grabbed Vegeta’s tail.

Instead of going limp like Goku had expected, Vegeta roared and smashed his elbow into Goku’s head. Goku went down like a stone.

“You _bastard_ ,” Vegeta snarled, kneeling on Goku’s back in the same hold Goku had used on him moments before, but twisting Goku’s arms painfully far. Goku yelped in protest, but Vegeta only tightened his grip.

“I yield! Ow, come on, Vegeta.” Vegeta tightened his grip again, and Goku made a slightly embarrassing noise of pain, hoping like hell that Vegeta wasn’t going to actually seriously damage anything

Still snarling, Vegeta finally released his grip, stepping back. Goku pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his sore shoulders one after the other, looking at Vegeta reproachfully. “If you’re gonna use your tail against me, you should be prepared for me to use it against you.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Vegeta’s mouth drop open in shock and stay there for a moment, as Vegeta visibly struggled to find a comeback. 

“You know I’m right,” Goku challenged, getting to his feet. Vegeta hissed at him, fluffed tail adding to the image of an angry cat. Goku fought to keep from grinning at the thought. 

“Tailless traitor,” Vegeta finally muttered, crossing his arms and somehow seeming to look down his nose at Goku despite being a good bit shorter. 

Ouch. The amusement drained right out of Goku. He hated how Vegeta could knock him down so quickly with only words. “Whatever. You’re just mad ‘cause I’m still strong without it.”

Vegeta settled his tail back around his waist, casually brushing rock fragments off the shoulder of his gi tunic. Goku was reminded that his own shirt was now completely disintegrated. Maybe they should just spar naked, he was going to run out of clothes at this rate.

On second thought, Vegeta in tight pants was distracting enough. Goku probably wouldn’t do real well if they actually sparred naked. 

“Let’s see how many losses it takes to give you a more realistic opinion of yourself,” Vegeta taunted, using words that Goku thought were unnecessarily complicated.

He grinned back. “Same to you, Vegeta.”

Vegeta snarled and launched towards him, and Goku’s blood sang as they clashed.

* * *

How the fuck had Kakarot gotten so strong?

Vegeta collapsed onto his bed - his blessedly large, blessedly private bed, Capsule houses were the pinnacle of all invention - and catalogued his assortment of bruises and scrapes. 

There were a good many of them. The hot shower - the blessedly large, blessedly private shower, he was never again traveling without Capsule houses for use on-planet - had eased much of the soreness in his muscles, but had also highlighted the number of stinging grazes he’d racked up.

He rolled onto his back to inspect a particularly deep scrape on his arm. A trip to the medbay for some antiseptic and bandages was probably in order for that one.

Kakarot had won just as many rounds as Vegeta. It was inconceivable. Vegeta was the Saiyan Prince, strongest of his entire warrior race, the one with the greatest potential. 

His teeth clenched, lightning panic running through him. How could Kakarot possibly be outpacing him?

During their first fight on Earth, Vegeta was convinced that Kakarot had only won due to Vegeta’s existing injuries and exhaustion. He’d struggled, after all, against Dodoria only a myria later.

But he had won against Dodoria. Had displayed that sudden burst of strength, higher than Vegeta’s own. 

Ice and fire twisted in his chest. Vegeta had been a fool to view it as a fluke, a brief moment of Kakarot burning too brightly before settling back into his place.

In just a few myria, somehow Kakarot had gained the strength to keep pace with Vegeta as if it were easy. At that rate of improvement, how long would it be before he surpassed Vegeta entirely? Vegeta had been rapidly getting stronger himself, so how had Kakarot managed to catch up to him?

Vegeta growled, hands clenching to fists. He would simply have to train harder, to keep his rightful place.

* * *

“Bulma,” Raditz announced as he dropped into his seat at the large dining table, “you’re amazing. A genius among geniuses.”

“I know.” Bulma grinned at him. “Anything in particular prompt you to tell me about it just now?”

“All of this!” Raditz threw up his arms, encompassing the Capsule house, and Goku smiled. He remembered thinking it was magic when he’d first seen Bulma pull one of these out, though they were so familiar to him now that he took them for granted.

“You’re welcome,” Bulma told him, “I’m just glad I thought ahead to pack a couple of these, we could all use the space after being squished on that little ship.”

“Damn right,” Raditz muttered. Goku thought back to how Raditz had commented on the size of his house at Mt Paozu, and realized it probably seemed like a real luxury after a lifetime of PTO sized rooms.

An ache swept him without warning. He missed his home, blue skies and clear rivers.

Still, this planet was pretty nice. They’d been safe enough to get the Capsule house up for one thing, nestled in a sort of forest near the main base of this planet’s space-constrained Resistance. Room to spar was a welcome change too. Once Vegeta had dialed down the attitude a little, probably mostly because he was getting out of breath, Goku found himself completely absorbed in the sheer joy of fighting someone with such skill and power. Vegeta was pretty amazing. Without kaioken, Goku would never have stood a chance of even catching up to him.

ChiChi had grumbled about some of the deeper scrapes that Goku had come out of their training with, but overall the damage was pretty minor. He couldn’t wait to face Vegeta again tomorrow.

* * *

Appule led him to the software technician lab. 

“Sir,” one of them saluted, “we found something on one of the drives your team recovered.”

Zarbon flicked his braid over his shoulder. “A location?” It had damn well better be.

“We think so, sir,” the technician gestured to the screen with a clawed hand, “these appear to be coordinates.”

Well. With Frieza’s wrath building by the day, that was worth checking out personally. 

“Keep looking,” Zarbon ordered them, “and send those coordinates to my scouter.”

He departed with a swish of his cape, trying to keep his forehead smooth of wrinkling frowns. It was too early to celebrate yet, but this might just get him back on Frieza’s good side if it panned out. 

Or at least farther from the execution block.

* * *

Ki seared Goku, ruining another shirt. Vegeta followed it up by kicking him in the jaw, sending Goku flying. 

Goku twisted with his own momentum, touching hands to the ground to control his path and lightly flip back to his feet. Pain slammed his gut as Vegeta punched him, so hard that Goku doubled over coughing, immediately followed by Vegeta’s elbow connecting with the back of Goku’s head so hard that Goku saw stars.

He looked back up to find Vegeta’s spread palm inches from his face, ki gathering. 

“Yield,” Vegeta snarled, the alternative clear.

“Okay, I yield,” Goku gave grudgingly. He wasn’t seeing any good ways out of that one quick enough to avoid a hell of a lot of damage. 

This was his third loss today out of their three spars. How had Vegeta improved so quickly? A few weeks ago they’d been even when Goku was at his four times kaioken, but Vegeta had been steadily surpassing him, even as Goku improved his own base level with each day. 

Goku grinned. Time to take it all the way up to level six for sparring. 

“Enjoying being put back in your place so much, Kakarot?” Vegeta taunted.

Goku’s grin got wider. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that by the end of the day, Vegeta.”

They took their stances, Goku not even trying to dampen his excitement. This was going to be so much fun. The first real test of his increased kaioken limits. Opposite him, Vegeta smirked back, cocky and confident and gorgeous. 

Goku blinked, shook away that out of place last one, then tore off the remaining half of his shirt. It would only get in the way.

* * *

Kakarot tore off the rest of his shirt. Was he _trying_ to be distracting? How underhanded. 

Vegeta smirked wider. He’d win easily without resorting to such methods. He was Saiyan Prince, after all. 

He ignored the burn in his muscles, a constant companion over the past myria of sparring. If he didn’t push past his limits at every training session, he’d never achieve his true potential. 

Kakarot’s grin was borderline manic, like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share. It was a good look on him, more properly Saiyan than his usual mild smiles. Sparring was one of the few times that he managed to look truly Saiyan. 

Even if he was a tailless traitor. 

They launched towards each other at the same time, right forearms meeting in a clash that would raise deep bruises. In tandem they sprung back, Kakarot flinging a ki blast that Vegeta dodged easily. Kakarot darted forward, kicking to sweep Vegeta’s legs out from under him, and as he fell Vegeta slammed a ki blast into Kakarot’s bare stomach.

Coughing, Kakarot slid backwards, a hand moving to cover the fresh ki burn. He narrowed his eyes. Vegeta finished his roll to his feet, began to gather ki for a follow-up blast.

Kakarot’s power level exploded.

Vegeta’s head spun, shock momentarily loosening his stance. Kakarot slammed into him so fast that Vegeta lost sight of him for a moment, the force of the blow clacking Vegeta’s teeth together even as he was flung through the air towards one of the much-abused nearby cliffs.

The impact jarred him, scattered his thoughts further. He lay in the rock, trying to parse what the hell had just happened. Kakarot’s ki, impossibly large, blazed rapidly closer. 

Adrenaline finally kicked in, flinging Vegeta out of his silhouette in the cliff. He barely ducked the punch Kakarot aimed at his head, distantly aware that it would have hurt like hell if it had connected, and slashed a hand backwards towards Kakarot’s kidneys. Kakarot vanished, speed beyond belief, to suddenly appear on the other side of Vegeta and in front of him, foot swinging to bury deep in Vegeta’s stomach. 

Vegeta tripped and gasped, breath failing. Fuck, that hurt. His knees hit the ground without his permission, and suddenly Kakarot was behind him, hauling him up with an arm tight around Vegeta’s neck. 

“Yield,” Kakarot purred in his ear as Vegeta struggled for air. 

Vegeta slammed an elbow backwards, trying to catch Kakarot in the stomach, but couldn’t get the right angle. The position was horribly familiar, reminding him of their first battle on Earth that had ended with him stuck in a ki dampener. Panic swirled, spiking his ki through his exhaustion, as he struggled to push Kakarot off. 

He couldn’t fucking budge him.

“Vegeta,” Kakarot sounded superior, exasperated, “it’s just a spar. Yield and we can go another round.”

The world spun with creeping grey. Was Kakarot cutting off his air, or was it simply his mind’s inability to process this situation?

Kakarot was stronger than him. That explosion of ki had taken him far beyond Vegeta’s own power.

That smirk that held a secret.

Had he had this power the whole time they trained? Had he been _toying_ with Vegeta?

A growl from behind him and Kakarot tightened his grip, apparently fed up with Vegeta’s refusal to yield. The only other end to their spars came through unconsciousness. 

The last time Kakarot had knocked him unconscious like this, Vegeta had woken up in a ki dampener. 

“Yield,” he gasped, shame burning him through the word, panic shaking his voice as he lost distinction between past and present. 

“There ya go,” Kakarot released him immediately, voice cheerful. “Told ya that it was too soon to get smug.”

Vegeta staggered forward then turned. Kakarot had been grinning, but it faded, his Saiyan sharpness turning to Earth-soft concern. “Vegeta? Hey, are you alright?”

Was he alright? Of course he wasn’t fucking alright. Kakarot had surpassed him, had used him as a plaything, stood here now mocking him for it. Vegeta clenched his fists to hide their shaking, keeping his tail tight around his waist, and bared his teeth in anger and shameful fear. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot took a small step forward, hand outstretched, looking upset. His ki had dropped deceptively low, and Vegeta hated him. Hated with every fiber of his being the ease with which Kakarot had flown past his limits. 

“Just stay away from me!” Vegeta backed up a step, then another. Kakarot froze in place, starting to look panicked. 

“Hey hold on, what’s—,” 

“I said _stay away from me_ ,” Vegeta yelled, gathering his own ki in a comforting blue flare around him. As if that could keep Kakarot at a distance. Kakarot remained locked in position, not moving a muscle, eyes wide.

They stared at each other, Kakarot’s softness on full display, as if he hadn’t just shown himself to be the most powerful Saiyan breathing, and Vegeta felt sick. 

He needed to be elsewhere. Anywhere that didn’t have Kakarot’s hateful face looking at him. With a snarl, Vegeta exploded away from the ground, ki flaring and trailing, trying to get as far away from Kakarot as he possibly could without leaving this wretched planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who leaves me wonderful comments, I read and treasure them all, even if I am a little slow to reply sometimes. It’s so motivating to see the bits that resonate with people, and always inspirational on what to highlight in the rest of the WIP! Life has been kicking my ass lately, so it’s really energizing to see that these stories can be a bright spot in someone else’s day (and comments are always likewise a bright spot in mine!).


	15. Flipped Sideways: Falling

Kaioken times six was amazing, a wave of effortless power barely contained within him, riding a razor edge that would kill him if he slipped.

Vegeta went down, and it was so damn satisfying, seeing how all that training paid off.

That was before Goku realized something had gone horribly wrong.

Now Vegeta had vanished in a blaze of blue, had left spitting and shaking so that Goku couldn’t tell if he’d been mad or scared. Had told Goku to stay away from him, and Goku half felt like a monster somehow. 

What had he done that turned Vegeta into that? He didn’t think he’d hit hard enough to do any real damage to Vegeta, not with how impossibly resilient the guy was.

He hadn’t seen that expression on Vegeta’s face before, didn’t know what it was, didn’t like it. Didn’t want to see it again.

Goku bit his lip, joy at his kaioken thoroughly curdled into misery. Should he go after Vegeta? But Vegeta had said to stay away. 

Maybe Raditz would know. He and Vegeta seemed pretty close.

* * *

ChiChi found him before he found Raditz.

“Son Goku! Is that a ki burn? Get in here!”

Shuffling his feet slightly, Goku followed her into the medbay, obediently sat down while she bustled around gathering her supplies. 

The antiseptic burned, and Goku winced. Vegeta had gotten him pretty good back there. 

“Did something happen during training today?” ChiChi’s hands were steady, but concern threaded her tone, “you look all out of sorts.”

“Ah, yeah.” Goku stopped. He wasn’t sure if he could or should explain it all to ChiChi. “Do you know where Raditz is?”

ChiChi hummed, accepting the apparent non-sequitur. “I think he and Gohan were having one of their study sessions.”

* * *

He dove into the tangles of vegetation, ignoring the way they caught at his hair, the stupid Earth tunic. Clinging vine type things, blue and blinding at the top of the grove, dark and soothing navy as he got deeper.

Vegeta stumbled and landed heavily on his knees as he hit the ground, damp seeping through the pants of his battlesuit. Water lingered on the surface under the heavy plant cover.

The ground squished unsatisfyingly when he punched it, left his gloves soggy and cold. 

Vegeta roared, the vines swallowing the sound of his frustration. 

Fucking Kakarot.

How had he gotten so strong?

Why hadn’t Vegeta himself been able to?

_”Remember, Vegeta,” he hung on his father’s words, drinking in the grave tone, “you hold the greatest potential of our race in your blood.”_

Strength was his birthright. Superiority was his birthright. Had always been, without question. He looked down on the others, so far below him.

Kakarot was different.

Vegeta became aware that he was panting, breath coming in uneven gasps, as he knelt in the shielding gloom of the vines. His limbs felt off, shivery, not properly attached to him. 

Was this all he amounted to?

He burned, hate and shame tangling within him. 

If Vegeta was not the prince, the strongest of the Saiyans, then what was he?

* * *

Goku paused in the doorway, smiling at the scene. Raditz and Gohan were bent over one of the data pads, conferring on some point or other. 

Gohan had been so happy to realize that his uncle shared his curiosity about the world. They’d gotten in the habit of sitting and pouring over planetary histories and species biologies from the PTOs databanks, heads tipped together and talking excitedly. Vegeta and Nappa had both grumbled about it, but they’d been thoroughly overruled by everyone else in the team.

It seemed a shame to interrupt Gohan’s time with Raditz. Maybe he should come back later. 

“Dad!” Gohan looked up, tiny in his uncle’s shadow, then leaped up to tackle Goku with a wide grin. 

“Oof!” Right in the ki burn. “Easy there Gohan, I’m a little sore from training.”

“Oh!” Gohan stepped back, face apologetic, “sorry, dad.”

“Hey, I still like hugs!” Goku grinned, ruffled Gohan’s hair, tugged him back in for a hug with a little less momentum behind it. Gohan relaxed against him, smiling again. 

“Hey, Kakarot,” Raditz gave him an easy grin, “where’d you lose Vegeta?”

“Uh,” Goku wasn’t sure how to finish that, winced slightly as he saw the grin slide off his brother’s face. “You, um, got a couple minutes?”

* * *

“You— fuck, Kakarot,” Raditz leaned against the Capsule home’s balcony, dragged a hand down his face, “you beat him that badly?”

“Um, yeah?” Goku had thought his brother would be a little more happy for him, “I’ve been training really hard, y’know? To beat Frieza?”

They all wanted to beat Frieza, right? Wasn’t it something to celebrate if any of them got stronger?

Raditz turned back to him, gave a smile that looked strained. “That’s amazing, Kakarot, damn. That must’ve been some kinda training. Dad’d be so damn proud.”

“So what’s the problem?” There clearly was one.

The attempt at a smile faded completely from Radtiz’s face. “It’s, I mean. Shit, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It looked like… it looked almost like I’d hurt him, or something.” Not the physical kind. 

Raditz grimaced. “Shit, Kakarot.” He paused, tail twitching in agitation. “Look, just— give him some space, okay? It’ll just - it’s just a lot, I guess.”

Goku stared at Raditz, hoping he’d give some kind of additional explanation, but Raditz just grimaced some more and shrugged.

“Okay. I’ll give him some space.”

That was easy enough, right? Not to mention it was what Vegeta had outright asked for.

Goku just hoped that whatever this was didn’t last too long. He didn’t like this new dynamic with Vegeta.

* * *

“Well?” Zarbon glared at the foot soldier manning the tracking arrays. 

“Signs of life, sir, several large ki,” the soldier reported shakily, pulling up a map, “there seem to be some kind of transmissions too, but we can’t interpret them.”

Zarbon’s lips curved in a wide grin. Bfutar was supposed to be inhabited only by the most primitive of life forms. The presence of elite-class fighters and advanced technology was a promising sign, an indication that their intel about a rebel base was accurate.

Most of the power readings were clustered, likely the base, many of them in the neighborhood of 10,000. Farther away, a single reading of 20,000 registered, the strongest fighter on the planet.

Perfect. Zarbon could easily clean up that lone piece of trash, before rejoining his men at the base to finish off this sorry little operation. 

He’d have to make sure to take a few heads back as proof. Frieza would be most pleased.

* * *

“So,” Krillin grinned at Kecgo as they paused training to catch their breath, Kecgo’s blue scales glinting in the sun, “you’ve been giving the PTO the runaround for a real long time, huh?”

Kecgo flicked her tail, grinned a grin full of teeth. “You Earthlings were hardly the first to think of resisting, you know.”

What a relief. It had felt so lonely, imagining that Earth might be the sole pocket of resistance. “Thanks again for letting us crash here,” Krillin’s told Kecgo, watched her head tilt as she tried to parse what was probably weird Earth slang to her, “that satellite network sure does give us some peace of mind.”

Kecgo nodded, satisfied, “we’ll see them coming a petameter away.”

Krillin paused mid delighted exclamation as he caught the edge of a set of large ki approaching, felt his heart sink as Kecgo cocked her head and he realized he’d have to deliver the news.

He should have just kept his mouth shut, instead of tempting fate like that.

But maybe they were friendly. They could just be a bunch of friendly large unannounced ki, right?

* * *

It was getting cold, here in the shade and the damp. Vegeta grimaced, pushing himself to his feet and wincing as his leg cramped painfully. How long had he been kneeling here?

Too damn long. He blasted clear of the vines, breaking into warm sun. Hovering for a moment, he evaluated his options.

Back at the base had Kakarot. He wasn’t interested in seeing Kakarot. Hell, he wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at all just now. 

A voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Raditz reminded him that he’d have to return at some point. Vegeta growled. 

He stretched out his senses, scanning the area listlessly while he tried to decide on a course of action, and jolted as he registered a huge ki racing right towards him.

It wasn’t Kakarot. The feel of the energy was completely different, almost slimy. Distantly, he registered dozens of other unfamiliar ki signatures, some large, clustering around the base near where they’d pitched their Capsule house.

Fuck. This place was supposed to be hidden from the PTO. Were they under attack?

The huge ki became visible to the naked eye, a giant flare of darkly familiar green on the horizon.

Zarbon.

The parade of emotions across the goon’s face when he stopped opposite Vegeta was downright entertaining. Vegeta crossed his arms, lifted an eyebrow. 

“Did you miss me that much, Zarbon?”

“You!” Zarbon’s face collapsed into a snarl, furious and animal, “you fucking traitorous monkey, you’re going to wish you’d never been born.”

“Careful, Zarbon, you’ll get wrinkles,” Vegeta drawled, then barked out a laugh as the vain idiot actually grimaced and smoothed out his face. 

“Well, now,” the oily tone had returned with the apparent composure, “this really is my lucky day, Vegeta. Frieza’s been so very eager to have a _talk_ with you.”

Ice filled Vegeta’s veins. He could only too well imagine what kind of talk that would be.

Some part of that knowledge must have shown on his face, because Zarbon’s grin widened, predatory. “I do hope you’ll do me the favor of refusing to come quietly.”

Vegeta snarled and slammed his ki free of its dampening, throwing an arc of rapid-fire blasts at Zarbon. Shock covered Zarbon’s face as he moved to deflect, slapping the ki downwards, grimacing as if it had hurt to do so. Zarbon dove towards the spot Vegeta had occupied seconds before, but Vegeta had moved the instant he’d launched his attack, swinging around in the perfect position to now acquaint his boot with Zarbon’s head.

The blow knocked Zarbon briefly senseless, plummeting towards the vines below. Vegeta put on a burst of speed, descending faster, and brought his knee up to crack against Zarbon’s spine. Zarbon coughed, blood speckling his lips, and twisted to try to return an attack. Vegeta was already moving, hand twisted around Zarbon’s stupid green braid, yanking the arrogant fool in a wide arc. He released, smirking as Zarbon wheeled through the air, and followed up with a two-handed ki blast that caught Zarbon in his abused back and slammed him to the ground, rocky and clear of vines. 

Zarbon staggered to his feet and leaped clear as Vegeta drove both his feet deep into the ground where Zarbon’s gut had just been. Pity, but at least this way his boots wouldn’t be all covered in gore. 

The ki blast that Zarbon flung was easy to dodge. Vegeta laughed, glee spilling out, and relished the terror on Zarbon’s face. 

Yes. He was Vegeta, a power to be feared. Not some shadow of Kakarot. 

Vegeta’s fist connected with Zarbon’s nose with a satisfying crunch, flinging Zarbon far distant to crumple against a cliff. 

Still laughing wildly, Vegeta raced after, gathering ki in his fists. Satisfying as it would be to toy with Zarbon a little longer, he wasn’t as stupid as Kakarot’s whelp. He’d finish Zarbon off before he could pull out one of those hideous transformations.

Still, he had a little more time. Zarbon was far too worried about his appearance to use something so ugly this early in the fight.

* * *

Goku knocked out another attacker, watched one of the Rachitoran resistance char a hole through an opponent. 

How had these guys managed to find the base? The Rachitoran resistance had been so sure that they were hidden here.

Still, most of this lot were small fry. A bigger power had been with them, had rushed off to where Vegeta still lingered. Nowhere near as strong as Vegeta, though. Maybe a win would cheer Vegeta up a little. 

Best to just leave them to it.

* * *

Bulma smacked the button to capsulize the coffee machine, shoved it into her capsule case. Just a few more essentials to shrink separately for use on the ship, then she could get the rest of the house in one go. 

They needed to get the hell out of here. Their Rachitoran hosts were rapidly evacuating too. Who knew how many more PTO goons would be coming after this batch?

Explosions and crashes outside, occasional yells of pain. Goku and the rest of their team working with the Rachitoran resistance to mop up the unexpected guests. Even Nappa was helping.

What the fuck was Vegeta doing? She hadn’t seen him come back with Goku, and her home-built scouter was showing him way the hell on the other side of the planet, next to a large unfamiliar ki. Vegeta’s ki was still higher though, he should be able to finish the other guy off quickly.

* * *

Vegeta dove towards the Zarbon-shaped hole in the cliff, ki charged at the ready for a devastating blow.

Zarbon’s energy level exploded, and Vegeta didn’t even have time to register shock before Zarbon’s newly bloated and pockmarked form barreled into him. Suddenly Vegeta’s breath was gone, pain lancing through him, Zarbon’s fist buried deep in his stomach.

Fuck.

Shoving his energy into flight, Vegeta dragged himself away and gathered a defensive ki blast. Zarbon vanished, stars exploded across Vegeta’s vision as Zarbon hit him in the back of the head. Vegeta dropped, ki focus lost, ground approaching. 

Agony in his spine, Zarbon punching him in the back. The ground rushed up faster, and Vegeta couldn’t collect himself in time. He smashed into the rock, cratering it.

Sharp needles as he pushed back to his feet, growling, left arm on fire. Always the fucking left arm. Stabbing pain along his rib cage, cracks and breaks making themselves known. Dull thudding agony in his gut, likely organ damage.

Blinding light. Vegeta forced himself away from the ground with a targeted ki blast, narrowly avoiding the much larger burst Zarbon had thrown at him.

That would have really fucking hurt.

“How do you like that, Vegeta?!” Zarbon’s loss of nose muddied his voice. He appeared above Vegeta and brought down two fists clasped together on top of Vegeta’s head, slamming Vegeta back down into his crater.

Vegeta coughed, hissing and spitting as he pushed to his hands and knees, felt the tickle of blood down his cheek. He wasn’t fucking going down like this.

“Growl all you like, it won’t make any difference,” Zarbon sneered, “pathetic monkey, Frieza did the galaxy a favor blowing up your damn planet.”

Vegeta barely had time to register the shock of that statement before Zarbon ended his downward dive with his boot in Vegeta’s spine.

In spite of himself Vegeta screamed, collapsed, vision blacking.

* * *

Vegeta’s ki flickered away, and Nappa’s shock nearly left him open to the Podoctian attacking him.

Nearly.

He snapped the Podoctian’s neck, but there were more, always more, and it was his job to defend the ship. They needed a way out of here.

There was nothing he could do against Zarbon. It had been a long time since he’d been able to defend his Prince. Anything that could harm Vegeta could harm Nappa and Raditz even easier.

“Nappa!” Raditz screamed, “we have to do something!”

He used Sadalan. Guilt ripped at Nappa, but he was as practiced at ignoring that as he was at ignoring Raditz.

“Kakarot!” Turning, Raditz targeted his brother next, switching back to Standard, “leave these guys to us, you need to go!”

What was he expecting Kakarot to do? 

But Nappa remembered the flare of power earlier today, Kakarot’s display against Dodoria. Maybe he really could do something.

More than Nappa or Raditz could. 

Kakarot hesitated, eyes worried, looked at Raditz, looked at Gohan and Krillin. Warped goddamn priorities.

Gohan looked back, nodded seriously. Something eased in Kakarot’s face.

He was gone in a flare of power, moving so fast that even Nappa’s Saiyan eyes couldn’t track him.

* * *

Vegeta’s ki vanished, and panic fizzed through Goku’s head. 

An opponent who could increase their ki. He’d been so careless, disregarding that possibility. But Vegeta was tough, he’d be okay. Goku could feel the faint flicker of his energy, tiny but there now that he was focused on the location.

Gohan and Krillin would be fine without him. They’d have to be. It was only small fry back at the base now anyway.

But the planet was so damned big, and Vegeta was still so far away. Still right next to that other ki.

That other ki that was dropping again, as if the battle was all over.

* * *

Vegeta came back to awareness holding in a scream, agony burning through him. The ground moved below, dizzyingly far away. Blood slid down his face, irritated his nose as it dripped, little red spots falling, itching. 

He growled, flexed his fingers, felt the burn of bruises and breaks making themselves known. His left arm didn’t seem to be working right.

An arm holding him up by the waist, scent that he hated. A laugh, sickeningly familiar. “Frieza will be oh so pleased to see you again, Vegeta.”

Zarbon.

The scream tore itself out of Vegeta’s throat without permission, panic flaring adrenaline. He twisted, fired a scraped together ki blast into Zarbon’s unprotected chin, relished the bastard’s curse of pain.

Suddenly he was falling, ground rushing closer, and he couldn’t fucking shape his ki to hold himself up.

* * *

Goku was in the middle of trying to figure out how he’d separate Vegeta from that other ki without damaging Vegeta any worse than he must already be, when Vegeta’s ki suddenly flared and raced away from the enemy one. 

He was heading downward awfully fast.

Shit.

Kaioken times six boosted Goku’s speed far past what he’d been using, let him get there in time to scoop Vegeta up before he added a new crater to the ground. The scent of blood filled Goku’s nose, and he had the sinking feeling that Vegeta wouldn’t have bounced back as easy as usual from a hard landing. 

Vegeta was vibrating in his arms, growling. 

“Hey, Vegeta,” Goku said in what he hoped was a neutral tone, unreasonably relieved at this evidence that Vegeta was still breathing.

“Put me down!” Vegeta demanded, tail smacking weakly against Goku’s ribs in agitation.

“Right.” He’d have to put Vegeta down to fight anyway. Goku landed, set Vegeta carefully onto his feet. Stared at the sky, wondering why that other big ki wasn’t headed his way yet. 

Vegeta wobbled, still growling. He grabbed Goku’s shoulder to stay upright, then released his grip as if burned. Goku clenched his hands into fists against the urge to catch Vegeta’s elbow, watched instead as Vegeta sank to his knees in a barely controlled fall, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“So what’s the deal with this guy?” Goku asked, hoping equally for useful information and to keep Vegeta clinging to consciousness a little longer. 

“Zarbon,” Vegeta gritted, and Goku registered now just how torn his voice sounded, “Frieza’s right hand man. Transforms.”

“Transforms how?” 

“Like on Earth,” Vegeta said nonsensically. He might have been staring at the ground because he was still too mad to look at Goku, or it might have been because he was too tired to point his head in any other direction. “Like the one that nearly got Gohan.”

Ice poured down Goku’s spine, conflicting emotions suddenly dangerously distracting. 

_A purple shape suddenly twice as large, twice as strong, flinging deadly ki at his son. Vegeta sneering, refusing to lift a finger unless Goku begged._

Beside him, Vegeta hit the ground with a thud. Goku kept his eyes trained on the sky, now with deadly focus on the green flare of energy hovering far above. 

Zarbon. Goku was damned if he’d let him hurt anyone else.


	16. Flipped Sideways: Collapse

Goku narrowed his eyes, holding himself tense as Zarbon landed smirking in front of him. 

“What’s this?” Zarbon’s voice held the same oily quality as Ederik’s, setting Goku’s teeth on edge. “A new little monkey come crawling out to play?”

“Looks like you play pretty hard.” Goku kept his eyes on Zarbon, not allowing himself to glance down at where Vegeta lay sprawled by his feet. 

Zarbon smirked and flicked his thick green braid over his shoulder. He was pretty, Goku supposed. Probably just as well Bulma wasn’t here. 

“I’m feeling generous, little monkey. Give Vegeta back, and you don’t need to find out just how hard I can play.”

“My name is Goku. And you can’t have Vegeta.” Rage pooled hot in Goku’s stomach even at the thought. As if he’d just hand Vegeta over like that.

Zarbon threw his head back and laughed, setting his earrings swaying. Weird thing to wear on a battlefield. 

Ki flew towards Goku and he jumped backwards, clear of the blast Zarbon had just thrown without warning. Zarbon smirked, darted forward.

Shit. Vegeta was there.

Goku flared his kaioken, spun a kick into Zarbon’s stomach. Zarbon’s eyes widened in shock as he was thrown backwards, smashing into a nearby cliff. 

Best to keep him over there, well away from Vegeta. Goku darted after, holding his kaioken steady at five times. 

“Damn you!” Zarbon roared, exploding out from the cliff, “I’ve had enough of you damn monkeys and your damn ki tricks!”

His energy shifted and grew, suddenly massive, his form bulging and growing before Goku’s eyes. 

Goku growled, and pushed his kaioken higher, up to six times. The highest he could do right now. It felt about level with Zarbon’s strength. 

“You cheating monkey!” Zarbon roared again, furious as his scouter blipped frantically against his eye. 

There was a satisfying crunch as Goku’s boot impacted Zarbon’s face, flinging him sideways. Twisting, Goku flung a series of ki blasts after. Many found their mark, but Zarbon was faster now, knocking several aside. Goku followed him, throwing punches and kicks, but Zarbon blocked them, returned his own blows. 

They were about even. Goku felt a grin tug at his lips as he brushed aside a punch and drove his fist into Zarbon’s stomach. Zarbon doubled over, gagging, and Goku thought he took an embarrassingly long time to recover. More than enough time for Goku to press a follow-up ki blast into Zarbon’s chest, shattering his armor and flinging him backwards, trailing smoke. 

Vegeta wouldn’t have taken so long to recover from a blow like that, not from an opponent with a similar power level.

Zarbon rocked back to his feet, screaming and throwing ki blasts that mostly missed. Disappointing, Goku reflected. This enemy had no real finesse, was just used to relying on brute strength. Goku swept his boot into the side of Zarbon’s head again, and Zarbon went down howling. 

“You—!” Zarbon glared from the ground, teeth bared, “cheating monkey!”

“I’m not cheating,” Goku frowned, crossed his arms, “you’re just not as good as you think you are.”

Zarbon stared from the ground for another moment, then shifted, shrinking back to his smaller base form and relaxing out of battle posture. Goku hesitated, not sure what to do next with an enemy that seemed to be surrendering. Shoot, he should have brought some ki dampening cuffs or something. 

“Well, then,” Zarbon stood, dusting himself off, “seems that I underestimated you. Your resistance might just have a chance after all.”

“You think so?” What an abrupt change. It made Goku uneasy. But he wasn’t going to attack someone who was just having a conversation with him.

“Yes, I’d very much like to meet the rest of them.” The smile didn’t seem to reach Zarbon’s eyes. 

“I don’t think so.” They were doing just fine without this shifty guy. 

Zarbon shrugged. “I’ll just be on my way, then.” He lifted into the air, smirked at Goku standing frozen with indecision. 

Vegeta would definitely yell at him if Goku let this guy go. Bulma probably would too. Before Goku could figure out a course of action, Zarbon was gone.

* * *

Raditz drummed his fingers against the ship’s console, tense and ready to go. 

What was taking Kakarot and Vegeta so long?

“Uncle Raditz, do you think they’re okay?” Gohan’s voice was tight with worry.

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.” 

Nappa shot him a dark look. Raditz did his best to ignore it. He wasn’t going to feel guilty about trying to comfort the kid, dammit. 

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the rest of them were all secured in their chairs for take-off. Gohan had bandages wrapped around one arm, a darkening bruise across his cheek, but had mostly come off pretty lightly. Raditz was pretty sure he’d gotten himself some cracked ribs yet again, and Nappa had a deep gash along one leg that he’d so far refused to let ChiChi take time to look at. Krillin moved like he’d hurt something pretty badly somewhere, and Raditz was hoping it was treatable. 

Why was Zarbon’s ki still so large and healthy? Kakarot had been gone for ages now. The flicker of Vegeta’s much reduced ki was still there, near Kakarot’s, so Kakarot must have gotten there in time.

Zarbon started moving. 

“Is he headed _towards_ us?” Bulma yelped, watching the ki tracker on the ship’s main screen. “Shit!”

That summed it up pretty well.

* * *

Everything ached. Vegeta forced his eyes open again, registered that he was moving. 

Fucking Zarbon.

Snarling, Vegeta twisted, punched the chest he was being held against.

“Hey, easy, it’s me!”

Not Zarbon’s voice. 

“Kakarot?” Vegeta registered the orange gi now, the familiar scent. Kakarot was using both arms to hold Vegeta scooped against his torso, which stupidly left him with no arms free for fighting. His skin was warm against Vegeta’s back where Vegeta’s useless Earth clothing had shredded.

“Yeah.” Kakarot sounded relieved. “Welcome back.”

Vegeta abruptly remembered how he’d ended up in this position, felt shame flood him.

He’d needed to be rescued. By _fucking Kakarot_.

“You beat Zarbon,” Vegeta said for confirmation, though of course that was the only thing that could have happened, for him to be stuck with Kakarot’s stupidly gentle carry rather than being hauled back to Frieza by Zarbon.

He reached out his senses anyway, scanning for ki in range.

“Hah, well, yes?” Kakarot sounded guilty, “except—,”

“Why the fuck isn’t he dead, Kakarot!” Vegeta’s senses caught the edge of Zarbon’s ki, “why the fuck is he heading towards our ship?!”

“I messed up, okay!”

“Then why aren’t you _going faster_.” What was Kakarot thinking, with this slow and leisurely journey far in Zarbon’s wake? 

“Well, it’s pretty obvious where he’s headed, so—,”

“You think he’s going to say a friendly hello?!” Vegeta couldn’t believe that Kakarot was still this naive, even after myria of trying to dismantle the PTO from the belly up. “Let me make it simple for you, Kakarot. If you let him reach that ship first, he will kill or kidnap your son.”

“Now you’re just pushing my buttons on purpose!” Kakarot snapped, and Vegeta didn’t even try to bite back his snarl of rage. 

“Let him, then! It’ll be your own fucking fault!”

They were both growling now, fury rumbling through them. Vegeta was aware of his tail lashing violently, could feel that Kakarot’s grip on him had tightened. 

Kakarot could crush him. Could drop him. Had demonstrated that he had somehow amassed power that far outstripped Vegeta’s own. He had the ability to hurt Vegeta now. 

They continued on, Kakarot showing no signs that he’d make use of his advantage.

It was humiliating.

* * *

There was an enemy coming, and his dad wasn’t here yet.

Gohan glanced around the ship. Raditz and Nappa tense in front of the flight controls, faces grim. Bulma sat with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, face pale, wide blue eyes locked on the main view screen. 

Gohan’s mom put her hand on Gohan’s shoulder and squeezed. He looked at her, how tense her face was, as she too watched Zarbon’s rapid approach on the view screen.

If Zarbon had managed to beat up Vegeta, then Raditz and Nappa wouldn’t be able to do anything. Neither would Krillin, and Krillin already didn’t look so good. 

Gohan squeezed his mom’s hand, then moved it, standing up.

Everyone turned to him.

“Gohan, sweetie?” His mom started to reach for him again, and it hurt to step away.

“I’m going to defend the ship,” Gohan told them, raised his voice as his mom started to protest, “I’m sorry, mom, but I have to do this.”

It hurt to talk over her. It hurt to walk away. Gohan couldn’t look back at the expression on her face. 

It would hurt even worse if Zarbon killed his friends and family, or stranded them here, or dragged them back to Frieza.

He couldn’t let that happen.

* * *

The little half-Saiyan had guts, Nappa would give him that. 

“Watch out for his transformation.” Nappa ignored the stunned stares at his first use of Standard in myria. “He’s like that purple one you fought back on Earth.”

That one back on Earth that had nearly finished the little tyke off. Vegeta wouldn’t be swooping in to save him this time. 

Why the fuck was Kakarot taking so long?

Gohan nodded seriously. “I’ll watch out for it.”

Nappa grunted and sat back. Ignored that he was once again watching a brat lead the fighting.

* * *

Gohan’s power flared abruptly, and Goku felt his heart lurch.

“You see?! Now your son has to clean up your mess for you.”

Vegeta was getting really annoying. Goku briefly imagined dropping him. 

He imagined it a little too well, and winced at the image of Vegeta crashing into the ground again in his already battered state. Goku tightened his grip slightly instead. 

Vegeta punched Goku in the chest. Or it was probably meant to be a punch. Vegeta wasn’t exactly in any condition to hit properly right now. “Are you even listening to me?! You need to fly faster, damn you!”

He was already using kaioken times four. He couldn’t maintain the higher levels indefinitely, there was too great a risk of damaging himself with a momentary slip, and the ship was still so far away.

* * *

“What’s this?” The green man stopped, crossed his arms over his cracked armor, surveyed Gohan. “You’re a little small for a Saiyan, aren’t you?”

Gohan glared back, not saying anything. Everything that he’d heard his uncle Raditz say about this Zarbon guy was bad news.

“Quiet for a Saiyan, too.” Zarbon smiled, and Gohan felt cold. “Perhaps you’d make a nice souvenir.”

Why did everyone in the PTO always treat things like a game? Twisted words and sneering. They were just a bunch of bullies. Gohan growled, let his anger buoy his power. 

“Oh?” The scouter on Zarbon’s ear blipped as Gohan’s power rose, and Zarbon’s eyes widened. 

Gohan caught the lightning transition from amusement to calculation, and dove forward to knock Zarbon back from the ship. The ki blast that Zarbon was launching went wide, flying into the sky.

“Well!” Zarbon smashed a knee into Gohan’s stomach, knocking all the wind out of him. “Aren’t you a clever little monkey?”

This guy was strong. That blow had hurt, still hurt, but there was no time for that. Gohan twisted, fired several rapid ki blasts towards Zarbon’s face. Zarbon moved back, avoiding damage, but that gave Gohan breathing room. 

The sudden smirk was all the warning Gohan had before Zarbon took advantage of the space between them to unleash a massive ki blast into Gohan’s chest. 

So strong. It burned. Gohan gasped, feeling his ki drain into defense, leaving him almost nothing to attack with.

He needed to hold on. He needed to hold on til his dad got here.

A vice closed around his neck, and Gohan fought to breath.

* * *

“Gohan!” 

This was a nightmare. Zarbon had a hand wrapped around Gohan’s neck, was laughing as he choked the life out of him. 

“I warned you,” Vegeta growled unhelpfully. Goku flung him into the air. 

Zarbon’s laugh cut off as confusion started to spread across his face. Goku punched him in the nose before he could voice any sort of question. 

“Ah ah,” Zarbon said though the blood pouring down his face, and Goku froze in the middle of a follow-up punch as he sensed, saw, ki begin to gather in the hand that gripped Gohan. “If this is important to you, I’d suggest you back up.”

Oh, no. 

Goku’s head swam as he backed away, trying to find an out. He caught Vegeta on his way back down without really paying attention, barely registered the outraged growling. 

Zarbon sneered. “Perhaps I could interest you in a trade?”

“A trade?” Goku parroted, not understanding, til he felt Vegeta tense in his arms. 

Oh. A trade.

“If you let me leave this planet with my dear friend there, I’ll return this to you,” he shook Gohan for emphasis, and Goku’s heart clenched at how limp that small form was, “not such a bad deal, hm?”

Goku wasn’t sure if he was breathing any more. He wasn’t sure if Vegeta was either. Time stretched strangely, frozen and spinning, as Goku watched his son suffocate.

He couldn’t think of any way to stop it other than the offer Zarbon had just made.

If he handed Vegeta over to Zarbon, Vegeta would end up back in Frieza’s hands. Would face whatever unspecified punishment had left the three ex-PTO Saiyans shuddering whenever it came up even half sideways in conversation. Whatever it was that left Raditz pale and distant whenever he thought of it, sent him someplace Goku couldn’t even imagine.

The answer to a trade was no. It had to be no. Goku should tell Zarbon that, should open his mouth, gather his breath, should tell him that he couldn’t have Vegeta. 

Gohan dangled limp in Zarbon’s grasp, and Goku was shaking, and he couldn’t make himself say no. 

Zarbon’s teeth showed, discolored by the blood still streaming from his nose. “You’re on a clock, you know. Perhaps you need a countdown?”

Vegeta regained the ability to breath first, used it to resume his growling, tail bristling and teeth bared at Zarbon. 

Goku had the unhelpful thought that Vegeta would have traded Gohan’s freedom to gain an advantage in a heartbeat. Had nearly done so, back on Calyptus.

“You have until I reach ten,” Zarbon told him. “One.”

Shit. Goku tensed further, brain still running in useless circles. 

“Two.”

There had to be something. There had to be.

“Three.”

The light was starting to shift, dusk arriving. Goku saw the edge of the moon, visible behind a cloud bank in the slowly darkening sky.

“Four.”

A breeze kicked up, clouds shifting to bare more and more of the planet’s moon behind Zarbon’s shoulder.

“Five.”

The clouds cleared to reveal a full moon, just visible against the slowly darkening sky, and Vegeta started to laugh one of his trademark maniacal laughs.

Zarbon paused his countdown to glare in disgust, then his eyes widened. He spun, looked toward the horizon, spat out a string of what sounded like curses in some other language.

Vegeta kept laughing, but the sound seemed to be getting deeper somehow, and was Goku imagining things or was Vegeta _growing?_

* * *

The change was agony, his broken bones and abused muscles stretching and rearranging themselves, and Vegeta laughed and laughed and welcomed it.

Finally, fucking finally, he could do something.

Kakarot looked confused, and he was clearly even stupider than Vegeta had thought if he was going to keep holding onto Vegeta throughout an Oozaru transformation. 

It wouldn’t be an option much longer. Red was filling Vegeta’s vision, the change taking hold in earnest. Fur growing, his nose elongating. He distantly registered the tearing sound as his shredded Earth tunic gave up. Kakarot yelped, finally reacting as the changes became more visible, and dropped Vegeta.

The ground gave under Vegeta’s feet as he landed, his mass huge now and still increasing as the transformation reached its finish. 

He spat a ki blast at Zarbon before the idiot could stop gaping. Kakarot fortunately still had enough presence of mind left to snatch his son from Zarbon during the distraction.

“Did you forget, Zarbon?” Vegeta sneered, caved the ground with his tail, “you’re not the only one who can transform.”

“You—!” Zarbon clenched his hands into fists, snarled and bulged into his own frog-like transformation, “that’s hideous form’s nothing to be proud of, monkey!”

“You’re in no position to talk.” Vegeta bared his teeth, attacked with ki blasts from both hands and mouth all at once.

* * *

Vegeta had turned into a giant ape. A talking giant ape. A talking giant ape that wore pants and shot ki blasts. Wow, those PTO pants that a Vegeta still insisted on wearing were really stretchy.

Goku clutched Gohan tighter, thought about the man that he’d named his son after, then decided that he couldn’t afford to keep thinking that much just now. 

The ship was nearby. He landed in the doorway, thrust Gohan into ChiChi’s waiting arms. “Do what you can, ChiChi.”

ChiChi’s mouth opened, but Goku was gone before he could hear her response. 

Vegeta roared, terrifying and huge and wild, and shook off Zarbon’s ki blasts like they were bee stings. He very nearly swatted Zarbon like a fly, Zarbon’s speed just barely enough to get him clear in time.

But Zarbon was still faster. Goku could do something about that. 

Kaioken times six. He let his rage and frustration out in a scream, barreled into Zarbon, felt the satisfying crack of ribs under his fist. “How dare you hurt my son!”

Fear covered Zarbon’s face, eyes sliding past Goku to stare over his shoulder. The feeling of something looming. Goku forced himself not to flinch as Vegeta’s furred arm shot past, gloved hand pinning a screaming Zarbon to the rock. Goku heard more bones crack.

Good. Manipulative bastard. 

_”Die.”_ Vegeta rumbled, releasing a flood of ki through the palm pinning Zarbon. Goku stared as Zarbon disintegrated, leaving nothing but a smear of ash. 

Oh.

It had ended in seconds. 

“So,” Goku said into the silence, watching numbly as Vegeta lifted his huge hand and blew some Zarbon-ash off his white glove, “giant ape, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” It was hard to tell Vegeta’s tone in this form. Goku kept staring ahead, not ready to turn around and look at the monster behind him.

_”You must stay inside on the night of the full moon, grandson. A giant ape monster comes out on those nights.”_

“Vegeta,” Goku said, feeling his head start to spin again, “can all Saiyans do that?”

“Well, all Saiyans with _tails_ ,” Vegeta sneered behind him, “though most are too weak to control themselves in this form.”

He might have said something after that, but all Goku could hear was white noise.

* * *

“Oh my god!” Bulma stared out the viewport, heart in her throat, “we have to move the ship before he hits it by accident!”

“He won’t,” Raditz said, infuriatingly calm. “This is Vegeta we’re talking about, his control’s better than that.”

“Wait,” Krillin said, “he can _control_ it?”

If only Goku had been able to control his transformations. That would have made the whole thing a lot less terrifying.

“Oh no,” Bulma had an awful realization, cut right through Raditz’s honestly pretty interesting explanation of Oozaru and how rare Vegeta’s control was, “oh, no, I have to get to Goku. We have to get to Goku.”

“Are you crazy?” Krillin stared at her, “we can’t go out there, Zarbon’s—-,”

Light flashed outside, and one of the ki signatures on the viewscreen winked out.

“Never mind,” Krillin said.

* * *

“Goku. Goku!” 

Bulma was yelling. Why was she yelling? 

Was it because Goku had stepped on his grampa?

There was a high pitched noise coming from somewhere. It hurt his ears. He wished it would stop. 

“Goku!” Bulma was in front of him now, was framing his face in her hands, “Goku, look at me, come on, Goku.”

The high pitched noise cut off. Oh. It had been coming from him.

“Bulma, I—,” Goku’s vision blurred.

“Shh,” Bulma wrapped him in a hug, and Goku crumpled onto her shoulder, “shhh, Goku, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault at all, okay?”

“What the fuck is wrong with him,” Vegeta rumbled. Goku shuddered at the sound, the giant ape voice, the reminder. 

“Shut up,” Bulma snapped. “Shut up and back off.”

The ground shook slightly, and Vegeta’s ki receded, and Goku realized in shock that Bulma had just yelled a monster many times her size into obedience.

He laughed into her shoulder, but it felt like a dam breaking, and then he was crying in earnest. 

“Oh, Goku, I’m so sorry.” Bulma was squeezing him like if she gripped hard enough she could make everything alright, and Goku wished it worked like that. 

“You knew?” His voice was all shaky.

“I”m sorry,” she repeated, “yes, I knew, but I… I just couldn’t tell you.”

How many times had he nearly killed more people he cared about without even knowing? That time they escaped from Pilaf. The tournament. Had there been more?

“Seriously,” Vegeta grumbled, and the ground shook again, “what the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I would also like to know that,” Raditz added from somewhere behind Goku.

Goku sniffed and wiggled. Bulma loosened her hold, let him sit up. Smearing his arm across his face didn’t seem to do much to reduce the amount of moisture there.

“You’re a disgrace,” Vegeta told him. Goku lifted his head and twisted to glare at Vegeta behind him, blinked in surprise to see the giant ape sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms folded over his chest. 

“Kakarot?” Raditz came closer, dropped a warm hand to Goku’s shoulder. 

“I’ll… explain later?” Goku offered. He didn’t think he had it in him right now. 

Raditz’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to argue. 

The sky suddenly went dark, a massive cloud bank completely covering the full moon, blotting out all of it’s light.

“Fuck,” Vegeta muttered. Goku stared as the giant ape started to shrink, turning back into regular Vegeta.

Partway through the shrinking process, Vegeta started to scream.

* * *

Raditz had known it would be bad when the Oozaru transformation ended, what with the injuries Vegeta must have gone into it with, but he still wasn’t prepared for the screaming.

It was even worse when Vegeta went quiet. 

“What’s happening to him?” Kakarot asked, scared. Raditz ignored him in favor of flying to check on Vegeta.

Still breathing. Not that he’d expected anything less, but still, it was a relief. Raditz scooped Vegeta up, using a two-handed hold, trying not to jar him. The bare skin of Vegeta’s back was reassuringly warm against Raditz’s arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bulma said, sounding exhausted, “no more Oozaru transformations allowed.”

“Yeah.” Raditz headed back to the ship, eyes carefully on the ground. He wouldn't transform unless he looked directly at the moon. 

It’d really be better not to, since they were right next to the ship and he didn’t have any of Vegeta’s control.

Nappa gave him a grim look as Raditz carried Vegeta onto the ship, then shifted to the pilot’s seat and initiated the takeoff sequence. 

Kakarot landed in the doorway holding Bulma, stumbled slightly on landing, still looking dazed from whatever the fuck had gotten to him earlier. Krillin rushed forward to steady him. 

Raditz glanced towards the medbay, where ChiChi was still treating Gohan, and decided to keep holding onto Vegeta til they’d finished the bumpiness of takeoff. 

The medbay bed wouldn’t be open for a while yet.


	17. Flipped Sideways: Shattered

A giant ape had killed the man who raised Kakarot. On a night with a full moon.

Raditz listened to the shaky tale spill out from his little brother while Vegeta finally got some medical treatment. Krillin and Bulma were with Nappa on the flight deck, Gohan resting in his bed. 

Kakarot was sitting with Raditz in the kitchen, trying not to cry as he explained that today he had learned he was the one who killed his grampa. 

“If only I’d listened,” Kakarot said, sounding wet, “if I had just stayed inside like he told me… I had no idea. No idea, that I could turn into _that_.”

Seeing Vegeta’s Oozaru form had been one hell of a way to learn that particular piece of information.

_“I figured it out years ago, but I just couldn’t tell him,” Bulma had confided in a shaky whisper, leaning close to Raditz but carefully avoiding touching Vegeta still in his arms. Kakarot sat staring at the floor, dazed in his own little world. “I knew it would hurt him so much, I just couldn’t.”_

Raditz kinda wished that she had. He sure didn’t know how the hell to comfort his distraught baby brother over this.

Oozaru smashed and killed. That’s just what they did. Except normally the other people a Saiyan cared about could also become Oozaru. Wouldn’t be small and helpless and easily stepped on. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Kakarot,” Raditz told him, wrapping a hand around his brother’s shoulder. Kakarot looked at him with a pleading expression, like he really wanted that to be true. “Really. Hardly anyone can control their Oozaru form. Shit, I sure can’t. It’s just a haze, you didn’t hurt him on purpose. It wasn’t you, not really.”

Kakarot bit his lip, and seemed to slump slightly. Raditz sighed, stood and dragged his chair around the table so that he could tuck Kakarot under his arm, against his side. 

It was like a switch had been flipped. Kakarot turned to bury his face in Raditz’s shoulder, let out all those tears he’d been trying to swallow.

“You’re alright,” Raditz told him, slightly surprised at how wet his shirt was getting, “if the old man’s like you said, I bet he knows it wasn’t your fault.”

Kinda grasping at straws here, but Raditz figured it was at least a plausible picture.

Kakarot sniffled, dragged himself back upright. Tried and failed to dry his face off with his arm. “Yeah, you’re right.” Some of the pain seemed to drain from his eyes, a tiny smile breaking through. “Come to think of it, he even told me that once. When he was back for a day.”

Back for a day… from the dead? Raditz was not going to question that one. Instead, he ruffled Kakarot’s hair, relieved when his brother gave him a normal looking small smile. 

He’d be alright. 

The medbay seemed to draw both their eyes again at the same time.

Bfutar had been a fucking disaster.

* * *

Goku rested his elbows on the kitchen table, stared unfocused at the cup of tea that ChiChi had pushed in front of him.

“They’ll be alright, Goku,” ChiChi reached out to squeeze his arm. 

“I believe you, I just,” Goku swallowed hard. “If I’d been able to think of something, some way to get Gohan free faster—,”

_Gohan, so still on the medbay table, breath rattling, throat swathed in cooling compresses._

“You did the best you could, Goku.” ChiChi’s voice was so steady and earnest.

He hadn’t told her about the trade that Zarbon offered. Would she have done it if it had been her choice? But how could Goku betray an ally like that?

_Vegeta, limp in Raditz’s arms, skin far too pale._

The Oozaru transformation had gotten them out of that particular mess, but Raditz had explained that the transformation put further strain on any existing injuries, even though the ape form wiped the slate clean of damage for a little while. They’d waited nearly an hour for the medbay, Vegeta still and small in Raditz’s arms like he never was when he was conscious, and Goku hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.

He hadn’t been able to do a damn thing for any of them. 

_Krillin collapsing, slowly folding in on himself, and the medbay had been occupied for hours solid, there hadn’t been time for ChiChi to take a look at Krillin’s injuries yet, just how bad were they?_

“They’re all going to be fine,” ChiChi repeated, “Gohan and Vegeta have Saiyan healing ability on their side, and I was able to stabilize Krillin.”

Internal bleeding, she’d said. The damage slowly getting worse while ChiChi was treating the more visible damage that Gohan and Vegeta had sustained. 

Too close. They’d come too close.

Goku’s hands tightened around the mug. He needed to get faster. Stronger. Train like he never had before.

* * *

Uleb stood in his appointed corner, clutching his wine carafe and trying not to show his trembling.

“Mr Appule,” Frieza was saying, deadly cold, and Uleb truly did not envy Appule in this moment, “would you repeat for me one more time your news of Mr Zarbon?”

Appule swallowed hard. He was not succeeding in hiding his trembling. “Lord Zarbon sent a scouter message several days ago reporting Vegeta and another Saiyan on planet Bfutar. We had no communication after that, so I sent scouts to check. The landing party was destroyed. We found no sign of Lord Zarbon.”

Frieza’s wine glass smashed against the far wall. Uleb moved as unobtrusively as possible to fetch a new glass from the concealed wall cupboard behind him. 

“You found no sign of Mr Zarbon and _no sign of the traitorous Saiyans_.”

“Y-yes, my Lord Frieza.” Appule was hunched forward in an awful indecision between bowing and standing.

“Do enlighten me, Mr Appule, as to why you waited _days_ to inform me of the location of those wretched monkeys?”

“S-sir, m—-my Lord Frieza, I—,”

Frieza’s patience ended. Appule was reduced to a scorch mark on the floor. 

“Mr Uleb, clean that up, and do hurry up with that wine.”

Uleb hurried forward, placing the glass in Frieza’s hand and pouring without spilling a drop. 

He did not want to become a scorch mark on the floor.

* * *

The ship felt empty. That should have been a relief, given how small and cramped it usually felt, but it was a bad kind of empty.

Goku rested his chin on his drawn up knees, watched Bulma type madly at the main computer. Raditz and Nappa had taken over the kitchen, hunched over the small table and murmuring in Sadalan.

ChiChi was with Gohan in the medbay, changing the bandages on his ki burns. Vegeta and Krillin were downstairs resting.

Vegeta had really not wanted to be confined to bed rest.

_”I’m not weak like you Earthlings, there’s no need for this!”_

_“If you were an ‘Earthling’ you’d be dead already, Vegeta. Bed rest for at least a week, no more arguments.”_

It had been a day now since they’d left Bfutar. Goku hadn’t had a chance to talk to Vegeta since the fight with Zarbon, not other than a quick hello before Raditz carried him downstairs.

Vegeta hadn’t much liked being carried, either.

_”I can walk, dammit, put me down!”_

_“No walking!” ChiChi snapped. “Not for a least a day!”_

Goku uncurled from the chair, moving before he realized he’d reached a decision. Bulma didn’t look up from whatever she was typing. Raditz and Nappa glanced at him briefly as he passed through the kitchen to get down to the living quarters, but didn’t interrupt their conversation.

It didn’t take many steps to get to the door of Vegeta’s room. Goku hesitated, then knocked.

“Fuck off, Kakarot.” Vegeta’s voice sounded raw still.

“Aw, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not getting bored in there.”

Silence.

“I’m gonna come in, okay?” Goku waited a minute in case Vegeta was actually going to tell him not to, but Vegeta stayed quiet.

The door whirred open. 

Vegeta glared at him from the bed, propped up against a bunch of pillows. There was a tablet next to him, probably something he’d been reading. 

Goku hesitated as the door closed behind him, not sure what to say or do now that he was in here. Vegeta looked rough, left arm encased in a cast while the break near his shoulder healed. The left side of his face was dark with bruising, across his cheekbone, around his eye, spreading over his nose. He hadn’t bothered to pull a shirt on over the cast, leaving the ki burns and bruises across his chest visible, the top edge of the bandages wrapping his broken ribs showing over the edge of the blanket. 

The worst wasn’t visible stuff. Severe kidney damage, ChiChi had said. A human wouldn’t have survived, but she’d been confident that Vegeta’s own healing abilities would be enough for him to make a full recovery. 

“Well?” Vegeta demanded, “did you just come in here to gloat?”

“Wha— no!” How could Vegeta even think that? Goku hated seeing him injured like this. 

Vegeta glared at him. Goku walked further into the room, sat down on Raditz’s bed. Looked into Vegeta’s accusing black eyes. 

“I’m really sorry,” Goku blurted, “I should have tried to get there faster with Zarbon, and—,”

“Shut up!” Vegeta snapped, “I never asked for you to rescue me!”

What?

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Kakarot,” Vegeta continued snarling, “next time, it’ll be your turn to need saving again.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re mad about?” But Goku kind of understood. After all, he’d hated the idea of asking Vegeta for help back when he fought Dodoria on Earth, had pushed himself way past his limits before admitting that he could use a hand. 

They were pretty similar, in that way.

Vegeta scowled, then tried to hide a wince as it pulled at the bruises on his face. “I don’t have to pick just one thing to be mad about.”

Goku surprised himself by laughing. He hadn’t felt much like doing that since they left Bfutar. 

“You should have murdered Zarbon,” Vegeta snapped, again picking what Goku didn’t really think was the biggest thing they’d left hanging.

Maybe Goku could just ask him. How much madder could he get?

“Yeah, if I’d murdered Zarbon then he wouldn’t have gotten hold of Gohan,” Goku paused, but Vegeta’s expression remained unchanged, “you were right. I should have murdered him, and when I didn’t do that, I should have gone faster.”

Vegeta blinked at him, suddenly looking off balance. “What are you playing at, Kakarot?”

“I’m not playing,” it kind of hurt that Vegeta would jump to that, though it probably said more about the people Vegeta used to know than it did about Goku, “I never want to be in that position again, having to choose between letting my son die or betraying my friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Vegeta snapped, and Goku only then realized that he’d let the word slip out. 

“You focus on weird stuff, Vegeta.” 

Vegeta glared. “So do you.”

Goku smiled. “Yeah, maybe. I’m glad you’re still with us, though.”

Confusion covered Vegeta’s face. Goku stood up. “Sorry for interrupting your rest. I’ll leave you to it.”

Vegeta didn’t snap at him as Goku ducked back out the door, so he figured that had gone probably as well as possible.

He’d also resisted the weird urge he had to hug Vegeta, which was good because that would definitely have made everything worse.

* * *

Bulma frowned at the vid screen. If they adjusted their course a little on the way to Kaneks, she’d be within range to interfere with the systems on Space Station 607. 

She’d run it by Raditz. There had to be something Bulma could do. She felt so helpless, sitting around while everyone else was fighting. Bulma couldn’t even help with the medical stuff, not really. 

Tech. She needed to get stuck into some tech. 

The door swished open behind her, and she turned, hoping for Raditz. 

Oh. “Hey, Goku.” 

He looked uncharacteristically grim still. Worried about Gohan, Krillin, Vegeta. So many serious injuries, this time. 

_”This isn’t a vacation.”_ Vegeta kept telling them. Bulma had known that it wasn’t but it somehow hit home now in a way that it hadn’t before.

“Hey, Bulma.” Goku dredged up an attempt at a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Bulma stood and crossed the room to hug him. “How are you holding up?”

Even gloomy Goku gave great hugs. He’d gotten so tall. Bulma rested her head on his shoulder for a minute, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was. 

“I just wish I could train harder,” Goku said, and Bulma felt his muscles tense as he pulled away from the hug. Wow, he’d really gotten muscular over the years, too. “There’s gotta be something. Back when I trained with King Kai the extra gravity meant everything took more strength, I got so much stronger from that…”

“Wait.” Bulma planted her hands on Goku’s shoulders, met his eyes and grinned. Goku tilted his head, puzzled. “Did you just say extra gravity?”

“Yes?”

“I can do that!” Bulma shouted, punching her fist into the air in excitement. Goku’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I can totally do that! It’s _easy_! We already have artificial gravity tech in the ship, I can just change it up a bit! I can make you as much extra gravity as you want!”

“Bulma, you’re _amazing!_ ” Goku was grinning again, that face splitting grin that she hadn’t seen since Bfutar, and she had finally, finally figured out a way to help her friends, “that would make all the difference!”

“Alright!” Plans were already churning through Bulma’s head. She’d need to do a bit of reading, and there wasn’t space on the ship to really get stuck into it, but she could get all the schematics drawn up, start putting together some of the smaller but trickier components, “one gravity training room, coming up as soon as we touch down on Kaneks!”

* * *

The book wasn’t working. He couldn’t fall into it at all.

Vegeta growled and let the tablet slip from his hand again, spilling to the mattress. 

Fucking Kakarot.

_“I never want to be in that position again, having to choose between letting my son die or betraying my friend.”_

They weren’t friends. Why had Kakarot hesitated even for a second? It was clear that he would give his own life and more to save his brat, why had he paused instead of immediately handing Vegeta over to Zarbon? Vegeta had certainly given Kakarot no reason to care for him.

It was soft and sentimental and weak, and it made Vegeta’s blood boil that Kakarot could harbor such useless feelings and such overwhelming strength all in one neat and unfairly attractive package. 

He pushed aside the voice trying to whisper in the back of his head that maybe the people who had taught him to equate gentleness with weakness had been wrong. That was impossible.

Except here was Kakarot, leaving Vegeta far in the wake of his own power with no apparent effort. _Saving_ him. Vegeta needed no saving. How dare Kakarot presume so.

Vegeta’s tail lashed. He needed to get stronger, was all. This was a temporary setback. He’d be the one to achieve the peak of Saiyan strength, even the Super Saiyan legend his father had told him about. Vegeta would be the one to beat Frieza, not Kakarot. It would be Vegeta who paid Frieza back tenfold for the decades of humiliation.

Curse the medic woman. Vegeta needed to be training, not resting. He had to get stronger. He had to be better than all of them.

He had to destroy Frieza. Had Zarbon been telling the truth, that Frieza had been the one to destroy the Saiyan planet? Rage ran hot under Vegeta’s skin, fury that Frieza dared to destroy his home and then _use_ him. 

Vegeta would not tolerate being used as a tool, would not tolerate being saved, would not tolerate being _less_.

He would get stronger, stronger than all of them, until he was strong enough to be the one to decide his own fate.

* * *

“I just wish I could have done more,” Raditz told Nappa. 

Nappa just grimaced and shook his head. It wasn’t a new conversation. 

_Vegeta, arm bloodied and trembling. Raditz rushed to help, was smacked unceremoniously to the side._

_The trembling was rage, he realized as he took a closer look at Vegeta’s face._

_“I’ll kill them,” Vegeta spat, tail fluffed, a tiny ball of fury, “one day, I’ll be strong enough to pay Zarbon and all the rest of them back for this.”_

_Raditz rubbed at the new bruise forming on his face, looked at his young prince. Just a cub, still, younger even than Raditz himself. The death of their planet a bright new pain._

_So full of power and anger. Maybe he could really do it._

They didn’t just follow Vegeta, they relied on him. Built him up far beyond reach.

It had never occurred to Raditz that he had the capacity to follow. Yet here was Kakarot, power climbing in leaps and bounds, not just keeping pace with Vegeta but actually strong enough now to help him. 

Too bad Vegeta wasn’t built for accepting help.

* * *

Goku sighed as he hit the button to open his own room. He’d just finished another conversation with Vegeta, and Vegeta continued to be exhausting.

_“What do you want, a pat on the head?”_

_“No! I just thought some good news might be nice for a change!”_

Whatever. It didn’t matter if Vegeta was excited about the gravity machine or not, Bulma was building it, and Goku would use it to get stronger, and it was going to be perfect.

Frieza wouldn’t know what hit him.

Goku walked through the door, ready to collapse face first onto his bed boots and all, then froze.

“Hey, Nappa.” 

Nappa glared. They’d decided to rearrange the rooms, ChiChi with Gohan to keep an eye on him, Bulma with Krillin for the same, and Goku with Nappa also on the grounds that no one quite trusted Nappa with a severely injured Krillin.

Goku had been subjected to a lot of additional glaring since then. And Nappa still refused to speak anything other than Sadalan.

Nappa growled yet another sentence that Goku couldn’t understand. Goku growled wordlesslessly back, and threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t understand you! At least offer to teach me, if you’re going to only speak in Sadalan!”

One of Nappa’s eyebrows arched, and he gave Goku a closer look. About damn time, Goku was tired of people looking through him dismissively. Mostly Saiyan people who weren’t his brother. 

“Kho’t,” Nappa said, nodding.

“Does that mean yes?” Excitement sparked through Goku, “does that mean you’ll teach me our language?”

The undercurrent of anger that usually seemed built into Nappa faded, and Goku suddenly had the impression of someone old and tired. “Hou, a chemt a’ketz.”

Oh. “You’ll teach me, but only by speaking it.”

“Hou,” Nappa said, and Goku caught the same word that had been used in an earlier sentence. Nappa nodded again, so Goku figured that was one of the words for agreement.

Goku grinned. He could work with this.

Maybe he could keep quiet about his ‘lessons’ for a while. It sure could be fun to surprise Raditz and Vegeta with, after he’d made a bit of progress.

* * *

“Hold _still,_ ” Raditz hissed at Vegeta. Vegeta growled softly, but stopped squirming. 

The ship walls were pretty damn thin, after all.

They were currently squished into the tiny bathroom closest to their bedroom. Vegeta couldn’t really bend properly with all the damage to his torso, and only had one working arm to boot, so Raditz had talked him into accepting some help washing his hair. More or less.

Vegeta was always extra cranky when he couldn’t get properly clean, and Raditz was damn well going to do everything he could think of to reduce his roommate’s irritation levels.

The bathroom wasn’t really built for this, but luckily Vegeta was small and didn’t have more hair than could fit in the sink. It wouldn’t have worked at all for Raditz. 

On the plus side, the bathroom was so small that Vegeta could just use the closed toilet as a seat while sitting with his head tipped back into the sink. It left Raditz jammed against the door, shower stall whacking him in the hip every time he moved too much, but that was okay. At least he wasn’t wearing armor with shoulder pads any more. 

“There,” Raditz muttered, rinsing the last of the suds out of Vegeta’s hair, “that wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

Vegeta gave him a glare that suggested it had, in fact, been all that bad.

Raditz shook his head and reached for the towel, wrapping it around Vegeta’s hair as he eased him upright, to keep Vegeta from dripping all over his bandages. Vegeta tensed, tail fluffing in irritation. His jaw was clamped ominously shut. 

Would a blow job be against medical advice? It usually worked well for relaxing Vegeta in the short term. Raditz would have rather rubbed the tense muscles visible across Vegeta’s bare shoulders and back, but that wouldn’t work at all for making Vegeta more relaxed. Too soft. 

Vegeta caught him staring. “ _What._ ”

Raditz shook his head. “Let’s get you back to resting.”

Vegeta growled again, tail twitching. He really was terrible at resting.

He’d also healed enough over the past couple day-cycles to refuse being carried, which left Raditz trying to support as much of his weight as possible without seeming to. The usual.

Damned tiny bathroom door wasn’t making it any easier. They squeezed out awkwardly, Raditz trying to avoid bumping anything, Vegeta practically vibrating with fury at the process.

“Oh!” Raditz tried to not visibly wince as he heard Kakarot’s light voice. “Do you need a hand?”

“Fuck off,” Vegeta growled, and Raditz didn’t even want to know what expression he was making right now. 

Kakarot frowned. “That’s not very nice.”

Laughing would be really bad right now. Even if hysterical laughter was starting to seem necessary.

“Just let us through, yeah, Kakarot?” Raditz had years of practice at keeping his tone even. 

Kakarot cleared the way hastily, but hovered nearby, looking like he’d try to help if Vegeta stumbled.

That really wouldn’t not go over well. Raditz was pretty sure he could now actually feel Vegeta shaking with fury, and there were definitely going to be finger shaped bruises on Raditz’s arm.

They managed to make it to the room, the handful of steps seeming to take hours. Raditz finally let out his breath in a gust as the door whirred shut. Vegeta collapsed onto his bed like he’d just gone ten rounds in a fighting ring. 

“I hate him.” Vegeta’s voice was muffled by his pillow, and he sounded petulant like Raditz hadn’t heard since they were still cubs. 

“He’s just trying to help,” Raditz foolishly defended his baby brother.

Vegeta tilted his head sideways to glare, mottled green and yellow bruises across his face somewhat ruining the effect. “I don’t _need_ his help.”

Raditz bit his tongue. He was pretty sure that Vegeta would have been well on his way to Frieza by now, if Kakarot hadn’t intervened against Zarbon back on Bfutar. 

Something strange happened to Vegeta’s expression, but before Raditz could parse it, Vegeta had buried his face back in his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately real life is kicking my ass right now so I need to put this on hiatus for a bit. I’ll probably be able to resume updates in December or January. Thanks to everyone for joining in on the journey of this WIP! I have a fair bit of the remainder underway, and very definite plans to get back to posting when things settle down a bit.


	18. Grounded: Reaching Higher

“Vegeta!”

Vegeta turned. Kakarot was bounding down the hallway towards him, grinning and sweaty and shirtless.

Doubtless come to boast about the progress he was making with his gravity training. Vegeta’s teeth clenched, tail bristling. 

Kakarot tumbled to a stop in front of him. “The gravity room is amazing,” he babbled, “I can’t wait til we can use it to train together.”

Vegeta growled, furious at Kakarot’s intrusion of his space and trying to ignore how good the fool looked and smelled. The gravity training had added definition to Kakarot’s already impressive muscles, and the knowledge of just how much power that well honed form contained only made him more irritatingly attractive.

“It’s just a couple more days, right?” Kakarot tilted his head, watching Vegeta expectantly, “til ChiChi gives you the all clear?”

_”You absolutely cannot train right now, Vegeta,” ChiChi’s voice was sharp, “for once in your life be sensible and rest until you’re healed.”_

As if that woman knew anything about his life. To add further insult, Bulma had placed a fingerprint lock on the gravity room door.

_”You wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t tried to get in there, Vegeta, so obviously I was right.”_

“A couple more days,” Vegeta grudgingly agreed with Kakarot. Which meant that by the time he started, Kakarot would have half a myria’s head start on him. 

Bastard.

The knowledge that he’d needed Kakarot of all people to rescue him from Zarbon still burned. Damn Kakarot, he’d even changed the way that Raditz and Nappa looked at Vegeta. 

Second best.

Kakarot was still grinning at him, looking like he was happy to see Vegeta or something stupid. Vegeta brushed past him and continued down the corridor, not wanting to look at that idiot smiling face for a second longer.

He wouldn’t let Kakarot stay ahead of him. The moment he was cleared for gravity room training, he was taking back his rightful place at the top of the hierarchy.

* * *

“Renok,” Nappa growled, pointing at the apple on the table.

“Rinok,” Goku repeated, squinting at the red fruit against the polished wood of the table. Perfectly preserved Earth items brought to Kaneks in a capsule.

A smack against his ear, not painful, but jarring. He’d gotten the pronunciation wrong, then.

“Renok,” Nappa said again.

“Renok,” Goku carefully followed. 

A nod from Nappa. Goku grinned wide, unreasonably pleased, and repeated the word a few more times in his head. Renok.

Nappa scooped up the apple, tossed it lightly in the air, caught it. Took a bite large enough that half the apple vanished. 

“Tbemazt.” 

A new word. Something about eating, or chewing maybe. It was easiest to pick up things that Nappa could point to, with his method of only speaking Sadalan. The more abstract things, words for movements or feelings, were harder. Goku had gotten the word for ‘pain’ down pretty early on, and some other fighting related ones, but there was a lot left to go.

“Tbemazt,” Goku repeated, feeling the spark of triumph again as Nappa nodded approvingly. 

He was getting there. A bit more, and he’d be able to string together a sentence. Already, conversations weren’t so opaque, the patterns of words starting to become familiar. 

“Sohn de khoziritz.” Nappa pushed back his chair, stood, waved an arm at the door. “Ituk. K’mezu chizk Earth t’mod a asodnitzk.”

Goku tilted his head, squinting. He’d caught “Earth” in there, and the word for “go”, he thought. 

Must be a dismissal for the day.

“Hou!” Goku jolted to his feet, sketched the Saiyan salute that Nappa had drilled into him with repeated growling and scruffing, and darted for the door. The sunlight was warm and buttery outside the Capsule’s windows.

He needed to check on Krillin before he hit the gravity room again. 

_”Honestly Goku, I’ll be fine,” Krillin smiled, and Goku felt an ache at how tired his best friend still looked, despite all the time to rest, “ChiChi’s got it covered, really.”_

Goku had never really appreciated just how much faster Saiyans healed, compared to humans. How much faster he could heal compared to Krillin.

At least it meant Vegeta would be back in fighting condition soon. Goku missed having a sparring partner. Missed the way excitement always gathered and fizzed under his skin with the challenge of Vegeta.

* * *

“You estimate that Planet 340’s rebels have done damage worth _how_ much?” 

Uleb shivered in his corner next to the wine. When Frieza used that tone, death usually followed.

Yapaya was unfazed. “20 billion credits worth, sir. We believe that the 340 group was responsible for the destruction of supplies on Frieza Planets 357 and 391, the release of prisoners on Stations 214 and 259, the disruption of communications on Frieza Planet 446, the computer viruses introduced to networks on Frieza Planet 667, 854, and 721, the communications blackouts on Frieza Planets 446 and 620, and the disruption of protocol instructions on Frieza Planet 822. There is also the matter of the false statements of resource shipments from 340 itself.”

Purple light twisted around Frieza, and Uleb realized with horror that it was a manifestation of Frieza’s immense power. He had not seen this in any of the previous ill fated meetings.”

“20 billion credits,” Frieza’s voice was cut glass fury, “20 billion credits in damage by nothing but an assortment of monkeys.”

“We believe that they are now working with the 908 rebels,” Yapaya said smoothly, no hint of fear, apparently secure in his very recent promotion to Zarbon’s vacated position, “however, the 20 billion credit count of damages inflicted by the 340 rebels does not account yet for additional damages that were dealt by the 908 rebels acting on what we suspect was information gathered by the 340 group.”

Frieza’s wine glass smashed once more against the far wall. Uleb readied a replacement, and made a mental note to order a restock of the glasses stored in his cupboard.

“Our efforts to locate the 340 rebels, including the Saiyans, have revealed that all ten of the locator beacons found by my predecesor’s team were decoys,” Yapaya continued. “We believe that the best way to locate the 340 rebels will be by tracking down active 908 rebel bases, given the unexpected success my predecessor had at uncovering Saiyans on Bfutar.”

“Mr Yapaya,” Frieza’s tone matched the red dripping wine on the wall, “prepare the Ginyu force for deployment.”

Yapaya executed a perfect bow. “Will that be all, my Lord?”

“No,” Frieza’s eyes were narrow with fury, “you will also order Annabas to dispatch mobile command 666. Move it to the Rfa sector.”

Yapaya’s eyes widened, but he covered it again with a bow. “As you wish, my Lord.”

* * *

Vegeta snarled and tried to kick Goku in the ribs. Goku sidestepped, Vegeta’s foot just missing him, only for Vegeta to abruptly shift his weight and try to plant his fist in Goku’s face instead. 

Goku hopped backwards, just barely avoiding the blow, grinning widely. Zenkai boosts were amazing. After recovering from his injuries, Vegeta was stronger than ever.

And _mad_. He was coming after Goku like he really wanted to hurt him. Goku was using the training session to hone his use of kaioken in bursts, that fine balance of focus where he needed to respond just barely in advance of his opponent’s blows to raise his speed enough to evade. It was trickier than holding steady at a higher kaioken for fighting, but if he could get it down he’d be able to stretch his power a lot farther in a fight.

It’d really hurt if Vegeta landed one of those punches while Goku had his kaioken down, though. That was part of what made training exciting.

Vegeta dodged Goku’s return punch, using Goku’s momentum to nearly plant his knee in Goku’s stomach. Damn but he was fast. Kaioken six was only just barely enough now, and it was taking all of Goku’s focus to avoid serious damage.

A wide grin split Goku’s face. He’d missed this.

Goku caught Vegeta’s knee in his hands, pushed off to spring backwards. They were training without ki blasts, because Bulma had threatened something unspecified but terrible if they broke the gravity room while training.

Vegeta lunged after him, teeth bared, and caught up with Goku mid-leap to plant his fist in Goku’s solar plexus. 

The breath rushed out of Goku, pain flaring. He slammed to the ground, 30 times Earth’s gravity helping him down, and Vegeta followed him to wrap both hands around Goku’s throat, face twisted in anger.

No air. Goku slapped his palm on the floor three times to signal that he yielded. Vegeta released him, growling, and stood.

“Nice spar, Vegeta,” Goku pushed himself back up, fighting the drag of the high gravity, and grinned at his sparring partner, “it’s good to have you back.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Stop this insulting dampening of your power, then.”

So he’d noticed. Goku rubbed at the back of his head ruefully. “The thing is, Vegeta, I actually need to train on how I use my power? It’s not like I’m holding back for your benefit.”

He wasn’t really sure how much he wanted to tell Vegeta about the way that his kaioken worked. As much as he respected Vegeta’s strength, he still didn’t completely trust him.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Either go another round now, or get out of my way.” 

Goku grinned, delighted. “You know I’m always game for another round, Vegeta.”

The dance of adrenaline under his skin. Vegeta’s smirk, sliding into place like another piece of armor. The slow certainty that with every hour of training, Goku would be better, stronger than he’d been before. More able to take on Frieza, able to protect Krillin and Gohan. 

More himself, somehow. Reaching ever higher in this spiral of competition with someone who could challenge him like no other.

Standing in the gravity room opposite Vegeta, it hit Goku that there was nowhere, including back on Earth, that he’d rather be.

* * *

Nappa stared out the Capsule window, ignoring the pathetically peaceful scenery. His attention was focused on the two monstrous powers that flared and clashed in the gravity room, Kakarot’s ki darting up and down while Vegeta’s held high and steady. Kakarot’s peaks were higher than Vegeta’s solid strength.

_“What are you looking at,” his prince snarled. Nappa glanced away, ending his inspection of the impressive bruise spreading across Vegeta’s face. “Nothing, my prince.”_

_“Liar.” Vegeta responded in the Sadalan that Nappa had used, stomping across the room to dig through the fridge. They’d finally left behind the insult of waiting in tense lines at PTO cafeterias._

_There was a clatter as Vegeta dropped his food on the table opposite Nappa, falling into a chair and glowering. Anger seemed always present in his prince these days. It reminded Nappa of their first years in the PTO, after the king had sent them away, first extracting a promise from Nappa that he would do whatever it took to keep the prince breathing._

_Reinforcing that anger and pride had seemed for the best. Something he could set burning inside his prince that would keep him going through the humiliating grind of the PTO._

_“You’re thinking too hard again,” Vegeta growled at him, taking a large bite out of a fruit. He did not offer to share any food, nor had Nappa expected him to._

“Yo,” Raditz ambled into the kitchen, “can I share the gravity room when you go in?”

He’d have to use a lower setting if Raditz were there. Raditz was still the weakest of them by far.

“Fine.”

Raditz grinned. Too much time around the soft Earthlings had him nearly as gentle as Kakarot. Dangerously complacent. Nappa had better try to shape him up during their gravity training.

Damn Bardock’s spawn. When was Nappa going to be able to wash his hands of teaching these overgrown cubs how to be properly Saiyan?

* * *

“Good spar, Vegeta.” Kakarot grinned, still panting for breath.

Satisfying, to have put him in that state. A bead of sweat slid down Kakarot’s bare chest, and Vegeta had to make a conscious effort to keep his eyes from tracing its path.

Why had the fool developed an allergy to shirts all of a sudden?

“One more round?” Kakarot tilted his head, a hopeful puppy. 

Vegeta smirked. “A glutton for punishment today, aren’t you?”

Kakarot just laughed, easy as always. It was vaguely concerning that Vegeta no longer found it annoying. 

The habit Kakarot had of using Vegeta as a convenient body for honing new techniques, on the other hand, was infuriating.

What the fuck was that thing he kept doing to multiply his ki, and why was he putting so much time into learning to use it in bursts? It made him dizzying to spar against, a pushover one instant then shooting far beyond Vegeta’s own power the next.

But of course Vegeta wouldn’t back down from the challenge. He’d been getting in plenty of technique practice himself, tuning his ability to sense ki, learning to time his attacks to the lapses in Kakarot’s strength, to speed out of the way when he felt that telltale flare of power rising. 

The gravity room’s controls blinked steadily at 100G. It had now been two myria since Vegeta recovered, and they’d spent every possible moment of it getting stronger.

Soon. Soon they wouldn’t need to fear Frieza any more.

“Let’s go, then.” Vegeta slid into a fighting stance, ignoring the irritating way his soft Earth clothes seemed to stick and cling against his sweaty skin. Kakarot’s eyes traced over him with an odd sort of focus, and Vegeta briefly pondered forgoing his own shirt for the next spar. It could be interesting to watch his opponent’s reaction.

Then Kakarot slid into a fighting stance, grin sharp, and Vegeta’s focus narrowed to the thrill of their fighting.

* * *

“You see?” Cala’s voice was crisp through the communicator.

“Holy shit.” Bulma stared at the screen. “It’s huge.”

They were looking at one particular region of space that Cala had directed her attention to. Not far at all from Kaneks. 

The wireframe rendering returned by the scanners indicated a massive built structure the size of a small moon. But not the shape. This must have been constructed in space, all long and spindly tendrils coming off a central hub. 

“It’s a mobile command center.” Vegeta appeared at her shoulder, skin visibly damp with sweat from his interrupted spar, shirt sticking distractingly to his amazingly toned pecs. 

“It’s a better chance than we’d ever hoped for.” Cala’s voice was tense. “If we can get close enough to drop a virus onto that thing, it’ll push straight to the central data banks. If we couple that with the little bug Bokardi’s been working on, we can wipe out all of their intel in one hit.”

The little bug that would insert itself into the programming running data backups, and would set it to corrupt itself at a time set to match the destruction of the visible active systems. No more star maps. No more records of where to find resistance planets. No access to communications. 

They could completely cripple the PTO.

“It’s right next to us,” Bulma was practically shaking with excitement, “this is too good a chance to pass up.”

“What’s it doing there, though?” Vegeta frowned at the screen. “I’ve never known a mobile command center to be sent so far out from the PTO’s core.”

“So they changed their operating procedure after you left,” Bulma shrugged, “who cares what it’s doing there, what matters is that now we can get to it.”

“No need to even board,” Cala added, head frill tense, “you just need to get within a 100 kilometers of it. We’re heading over too, for backup.”

Maybe they could all catch up on Kaneks after. Have a little victory party.

Bulma grinned. “Let’s do this, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: they had to train for longer to get to 100G than Goku did on the ship, because no senzu beans to heal and give zenkai boosts 
> 
> Also: I’m back from hiatus! Thanks for all the well wishes, things have indeed calmed down, and I’m hoping to get back to a weekly posting schedule! I wasn’t able to reply all the lovely comments at the time, but I was definitely still reading them and it was nice to see people still enjoying the story!
> 
> We’re into Phase 5 now, it’s gonna be a rough one :D


	19. Grounded: Overreach

Vegeta’s back hit the ground. Goku smirked, pinned him with an arm across Vegeta’s neck.

100G blinked on the gravity room display. Vegeta glared up at him, panting slightly as he recovered his breath, and Goku wondered what his lips would taste like. 

He’d been wondering that kind of thing a lot, lately. 

Vegeta grimaced. Slapped the floor three times, yielding. 

Goku released him immediately, didn’t offer him the hand up that he knew Vegeta wouldn’t take. “Good spar, Vegeta.”

Vegeta just growled, pacing across the room and taking a fighting stance, tail fluffed slightly in irritation. Goku grinned, raised his hands in readiness. 

One of these days he’d get Vegeta to admit how much fun this always was, regardless of who was winning. 

They clashed together, matching blow for blow. Goku swept Vegeta’s punch off course, deflecting with his forearm, and returned a punch that Vegeta stubbornly caught, smirking and trapping Goku’s hand in place while he aimed a knee at Goku’s stomach. Goku caught the blow before it could connect, used the contact to push Vegeta off balance, loosened Vegeta’s grip enough to free his hand, jumped back to gain distance. 

Vegeta pressed him again, getting in close. Goku hooked one ankle out from under him, but Vegeta rolled, recovered to his feet, which was pretty damn impressive in 100G, then snarled as he lunged at Goku again. 

They should probably take a break soon. Without anyone else on base yesterday, they’d sparred for far longer at a stretch than they usually did. Today too, hours in a row, at 100G the whole time.

Goku spun to kick Vegeta in the chest. The blow connected hard, Vegeta’s eyes momentarily blowing wide with shock, and Vegeta gracelessly flung an arm out to catch himself as he went down. 

There was a sickening pop.

“Gravity off!” Goku cursed internally as the room powered down, ran over to check on Vegeta. “We’re done sparring for the day, alright? Let me see that shoulder.”

Vegeta glowered at him, skin paler than usual and face tight with pain. He didn’t argue as Goku knelt to inspect his left shoulder. 

Yep. That was dislocated alright. 

“Hold still.” Goku didn’t wait to see if Vegeta was going to argue, instead bracing his hands against Vegeta’s arm and torso. He popped the joint back into its socket with an abrupt twist, making Vegeta yell. 

“There, all fixed.” Goku leaned back on his heels. Vegeta growled at him, raising his right hand to rub at his abused left shoulder. 

It was a pretty minor injury in the scheme of things. Which was good, since their medic was currently off planet. 

“Let’s go get dinner,” Goku added after a moment, when Vegeta continued to glare at him instead of actually saying anything. 

Vegeta grunted, pushed himself to his feet. “I’m taking a shower first.” 

Goku tried not to imagine that process, the water sluicing over Vegeta’s bare skin, and failed miserably. He stood, feeling too warm yet again. Coughed awkwardly to try to fix whatever was suddenly wrong with his throat. “Dinner after that, then.”

Vegeta grumbled something inaudible then stomped out of the gravity chamber. He was wearing loose sweatpants instead of his PTO leggings, but Goku still found himself staring.

He just hoped Vegeta wasn’t picking up on any of this. Goku didn’t figure Vegeta would be interested in that kind of attention from him.

* * *

Stupid. 

Vegeta stood letting the hot water pound against his back, loosening the lingering pain in his left shoulder.

How could he be so stupid? Making such an amateur mistake in a spar. As if he was no better than a cub, still learning how to fall properly. 

The room blurred briefly out of focus. Vegeta cursed under his breath, slapping the controls to turn the water off. Stepped out of the shower to towel himself dry, felt the room tilt again.

He was exhausted. Had been pushing himself impossibly far in every sparring session. 

Kakarot was dancing fucking circles around him. 

Vegeta hated him for it. That easy strength, as if progress were effortless for him. Acting as if it was all fun and games, laughing and smiling. 

How had he managed to so surpass Vegeta? Why was Vegeta so completely unable to catch him? Watching uselessly as Kakarot receded farther and farther into the distance. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice came through the door as Vegeta was dragging a fresh pair of soft Earth pants over his damp skin, “you coming to eat?”

Vegeta growled under his breath, tail lashing behind him. “I know where the kitchen is, Kakarot.” 

Silence on the other side of the door. Vegeta could imagine the frown on Kakarot’s face, lips pouted in annoyance at Vegeta’s rudeness. 

It wasn’t a bad image.

Vegeta shook away the thought, and dug through the dresser for a fresh shirt. 

The door clicked open behind him, and Vegeta turned to glare at Kakarot. “I told you I don’t need a fucking escort.”

Kakarot flushed, eyes lingering on Vegeta’s still bare chest before he jerked his gaze up to meet Vegeta’s eyes, face reddening even further. Did he think he was being subtle? Vegeta pushed aside the flare of satisfaction at Kakarot’s apparent interest.

“Why are you so mad at me all the time?” Kakarot asked, and Vegeta suddenly felt far more naked than his current state of dress could account for.

Why indeed. Vegeta could no longer even tell whether it was Kakarot or himself he was mad at. 

“Because you’re annoying,” he told Kakarot instead, turning away to finish shrugging on his shirt. 

Kakarot sighed behind him. “Come eat with me anyway.”

Vegeta turned back to find Kakarot leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, expression neutral. His hair was damp from his own shower, and everything about his stance exuded easy confidence. 

Damn him. 

“Fine,” Vegeta growled, striding across the room to brush past Kakarot into the hallway. He tried not to linger on the warmth of Kakarot’s torso against his bare arm, or the tingle of satisfaction as Kakarot fell into easy step behind Vegeta’s right shoulder.

* * *

The command center loomed in the view screen, light glinting off an endless web of connecting segments. It was chillingly close to Kaneks, only a few days’ travel on their little ship.

Krillin shivered, and gripped the armrests tighter. That station didn’t look like anything they should be messing with. It hadn’t been that long ago that Krillin had recovered from his injuries on Bfutar. He’d rather not add any more just now, thanks. 

He wished Goku were with them.

_”If you’re not even boarding then you don’t really need us do you?” Goku turned wide hopeful eyes on Bulma, “so we could just stay here and keep training?”_

Nappa and Raditz were here, Raditz in his usual pilot’s seat. Krillin thought he looked a little pale as they all stared at their target. 

Bulma cackled from the co-pilot chair. “We’re in business, boys. I’ve just picked up the edge of their transmission network.”

“Let’s wrap this up and leave, then,” Raditz sounded nervous, “the less time we spend near that thing, the better.”

“Oh relax, my cloaking is _perfect_ , they have no idea we’re here.” Bulma was already tapping rapidly at her keyboard, getting started with her hacking. The hum of the ship changed tone around them, auxiliary systems powering down to divert more energy to the communications array. 

Even though Raditz and Bulma had walked them through how this part would go, it was still terrifying. Krillin glanced sideways at Gohan and ChiChi, saw that ChiChi had her son’s hand clenched tight in one fist. 

Nappa sat grim and silent as he had the whole trip. He hadn’t wanted to come, but Vegeta had argued with him in Sadalan until he apparently changed his mind. Goku had watched their exchange with the kind of attention that Krillin usually only saw him give food and fighting.

Raditz shifted his weight uneasily. “How long you got left, Bulma?”

“Longer if you keep distracting me,” she snapped.

“Right.” Raditz clenched and unclenched his left fist, right hand still resting tensely on the controls. He shuffled in his chair some more, glanced at the viewscreen, glanced past it through the bulbous viewport. 

“Is everything okay, Raditz?” Krillin didn’t like seeing the big Saiyan so on edge. Much time as Vegeta seemed to spend scoffing and calling Raditz a coward, it seemed more to Krillin like Raditz just had a reasonable sense of self preservation.

Raditz twisted in his seat to look at Krillin, eyes flicking briefly to Nappa first. “Nothing solid. But the traffic around the center doesn’t look right. They’re not just coming and going, they’re circling in patterns.”

Nappa said something sharp in Sadalan. Raditz grimaced. “That’s what I’m worried it is. But like I said, nothing solid.”

“Less talking while I’m trying to concentrate,” Bulma reprimanded sharply. 

The flight deck returned to tense silence for several moments. Krillin stared at the movement of ships outside the window, tiny specks drifting past the hulking station, and had the sinking feeling that Raditz was right about the patterns.

Almost like they were looking for something.

“Yes!” Bulma shouted, punching the air, making everyone jump. Even Nappa, Krillin noticed. “I got it! Those bastards won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“I’m getting us out of here, then.” Raditz immediately scooped up the controls. The hum of the ship returned to normal as Bulma disengaged the souped up communications array, hacking completed. 

The ship suddenly rocked, and some of the ceiling panels clattered noisily to the ground. Krillin’s breath stopped as he registered another ship suddenly outside the viewport bubble. Light glinted yellow around something in the other ship’s belly.

_”Fuck,”_ Raditz said with feeling, twisting the controls to make the ship dip in a way that left Krillin’s stomach behind. 

Everything juddered again, red lights flashing through the cabin with eerie silence. 

“Oh Kami,” Bulma whispered, staring at something on her co-pilot panel, “we need to land. We need to land _now_.”

* * *

“Morning, Vegeta!” Goku grinned as Vegeta paced into the kitchen, hair still sleep ruffled. “All rested up?”

Vegeta huffed. “More than enough to deal with you.” 

The eggs were finished, so Goku divided the mountain onto two plates. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Good as new.” Vegeta rotated his left arm to demonstrate, moving easily and without a hint of pain from yesterday’s injury. Goku grinned. With an irritated twitch of his tail, Vegeta spun and headed straight for the coffee maker.

He was as bad as Bulma with that stuff. No help at all in getting the food onto the table. Though Goku wouldn’t have expected Vegeta to help with something like that anyway.

Still, it was nice, somehow, when Vegeta dropped into a seat next to Goku, started shoving food in his face. This doing something together that wasn’t fighting or arguing. 

“We maxed out the gravity machine,” Vegeta remarked, after a while. Goku glanced up to see that Vegeta had finished nearly everything on his plate, and was currently devouring a piece of toast. He’d managed to get jam on his cheek in the process, and Goku had a suicidal urge to reach over and smooth it off with his thumb. 

Vegeta gave him an odd look. “Are you even listening?”

“Oh!” Goku startled. “Yeah, we’ll have to ask Bulma to improve it a bit when she gets back. Uh, you have jam on your face.”

Vegeta looked mildly horrified, scrubbed the back of his hand energetically against his cheek. Goku squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable. Stretched out his ki sense just for something to do, other than think about what Vegeta’s skin might feel like under his hands. 

Oh.

“Kakarot?” Vegeta’s tone was all business again, clearly reading the tension that must have just appeared in Goku’s face.

“There’s three huge ki headed right for us.” Goku frowned, tried to get a better read on them. “Incoming from space, I think.”

“Shit.” When Goku glanced over again, Vegeta’s expression was serious, dark eyes intense in a way that pooled heat in Goku’s stomach. “Playtime is over, Kakarot.”

* * *

Raditz grit his teeth. There was a planet below them, green and huge. Not one that the PTO had mapped, they were taking a gamble with the atmospheric quality and pretty much everything else. 

Warnings flashed across the console, flagging all the separate places their little ship had just taken catastrophic damage. Hull over the flight deck warped to within centimeters of breaching, metal stretched to the very limits of its tolerances. A chunk taken out of the belly of the ship when he dodged the second beam, energy shields already depleted to nothing from the first hit. The cross-deck seal had kicked in just like it was meant to, keeping the top half of the ship secure against the vacuum outside, but they didn’t have any halves left of the ship to retreat to. 

Fucking hell this was a mess. 

Looked like it was a rocky planet at least, the solid kind. The controls were sluggish under his hands as he plunged them towards the strange planet. Power dropped to emergency backups, failsafes, everything on the edge of blinking out as power limped along the damaged energy conduits strung through the floor between the ship’s two decks. Thank fuck this model had a sensible enough design for that to be in an interior wall, they’d be dead already if it was one of the older types that took the power across the ship’s outer belly.

“Oh Kami,” Bulma whispered again, and Raditz absolutely did not have time to look at her right now. Didn’t have time to wonder what the hell she was up to as she lurched from her seat.

They hit the green planet’s atmosphere, and the ship juddered and _shrieked_ , and _fuck_ , there was no way that damaged hull would hold through re-entry, they’d have to brace for the explosion, and Vegeta was going to kill them if they let the tech die out here like this. 

Ki flared behind him, nearly startling him bad enough to twist the controls, but not quite, fuck he could not afford even the tiniest muck up with the controls right now.

The screeching of tortured metal stopped. 

Bulma collapsed back into the co-pilot seat. Raditz kept his focus on getting the ship to the fucking ground. It still looked horrifyingly far away. 

“Krillin, just hang in there, we’ll be on the ground in a couple minutes,” Bulma said from next to him, and Raditz’s tension frayed mind slowly connected the dots between the ship’s impossible survival in the atmosphere and that flare of ki.

The little Earthling was holding a ki barrier over the warped bit of the hull, keeping it secure against the drag of the atmosphere. Projecting his energy right through what was left of the ship and holding it in an incredibly specific shape against a frankly crazy amount of force.

After they made it to the ground, Raditz was going to take a bit to properly appreciate just how damned impressive that was. 

The ground got closer, and closer. Their bit of the ship continued to not explode, though Raditz could see from the readings that the lower half was well and truly melted now. Had to struggle to adjust the ship’s trajectory against the drag and the warping heat on the wrecked belly. The fuel lines were just barely hanging in there.

“Brace yourselves, it’s going to be a rough landing,” he warned. 

Nappa stood, scooped up Bulma despite her yelp, and braced his back against the undamaged side of the ship. 

They hit the ground hard, a sickening jolt, no landing gear left to speak of, the remaining scrap metal along the ship’s belly shrieking and folding as the ship dragged and skidded, not enough of the thrusters left for Raditz to slow their descent fully.

Bulma screamed, a counterpoint to the screech of metal and the grind of rock. 

The ship skidded and jerked to a stop, smoke billowing around them. Raditz realized that he still seemed to have all of his limbs attached and functional, let his breath out in a rush of relief. 

“Everyone okay?” He pushed himself to his feet, looked behind him at the cabin.

“Somehow or other.” Krillin unfolded from his brace position, smiled weakly. “Not your best landing.”

“Pretty damn good, under the circumstances.” Nappa unexpectedly spoke up in Standard, in rare defense of Raditz. Bulma squeaked as Nappa set her back on her feet. Raditz was relieved to see that she looked unharmed. 

“Nice work with the ki shield, Krillin.” Raditz braced his hand against the back of the pilot seat to support his unaccountably shaky legs. Krillin gave him a wobbly grin and a thumbs up.

“Are you okay, mom?” Gohan uncurled from his own brace position, turned to check on ChiChi. She smiled back, nodded, looking pale but otherwise refreshingly undamaged. 

“I just really hope this place has breathable atmosphere.” Bulma headed for the box of sensor gadgets stowed under the main console, tripped on shaky legs, finished the journey on hands and knees before scrabbling for the right bag. “Come on, I know it’s in here.”

“Should be, yeah.” Raditz slumped back into his seat before he made any embarrassing falls of his own, stared unfocused at the floor. There was a heat bubble rising in the metal under the pilot’s chair.

“We’re clear, atmosphere’s breathable” Nappa reported, and Raditz realized time had slid by enough for Bulma to locate the sensors, hand them off to Nappa to run the tests. 

He breathed through the way the room spun. Not atmosphere poisoning then, just plain old shock.

This was a fucking nightmare. But it looked like they’d live to fight another day.

* * *

Goku cinched the blue band closed against the orange of his gi, grinned to himself as excitement thrummed through his veins. They were in for a real fight now, strong opponents headed their way.

He couldn’t wait to test out the results of his gravity training. 

“Stop admiring yourself and let’s go,” Vegeta snapped from the doorway. Goku turned to find Vegeta dressed in his own battle uniform, black tunic over his blue PTO pants, white gloves and boots also kept from his PTO gear. His bare arms were crossed over his chest. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Goku bounced on his toes, ignored Vegeta’s wrinkled nose, “ready for some fun?”

Vegeta shook his head, gave Goku a disbelieving look. “You’re such a child.”

* * *

The sky was green, so that was weird. Krillin squinted at it. “Uh, is anyone else seeing more than one sun up there?”

“Yeah,” Raditz glanced over, shrugged, “sometimes it’s like that.”

“Right.” Krillin blinked. He still wasn’t used to hopping around other planets. It would be nice to get home to Earth after all this. 

Two dark circles streaked across the sky, and Krillin gulped as he picked up a massive ki signature from one of them. “Tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”

“Fuck,” Raditz said unhelpfully, staring after the shapes. The two attack pods. 

“Any chance they’re friendly?” That got him incredulous stares from both Raditz and Nappa. “So that’s a no, then.”

“Non-combatants stay here,” Nappa growled. He turned and glared at Raditz. “You, you stay with the medic and the tech.”

“ _What,_ ” Raditz yelped indignantly, “come on, I’m not _that_ weak!”

“Someone needs to look after them,” Nappa continued, and Krillin was distantly surprised that he was bothering to speak Standard to them again, “that’s going to be you, Raditz.”

Which sounded like Krillin and Gohan would be going with Nappa to check out the new arrivals. Krillin glanced sideways to find Gohan’s face already set with determination. Next to him, ChiChi looked tearful, hand hovering near Gohan’s shoulder but not quite touching. 

“Any idea who we’re dealing with?” Krillin was still holding out faint hope that the new arrivals might be friendly.

Nappa shook his head. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

Vegeta watched Kakarot skim low over the trees, spinning and grinning like this was all just a game. The idiot.

From the size of that ki, they were probably dealing with the Ginyu force. Some of it, at least. Terror of the universe second only to Frieza, and Kakarot was acting like someone had just handed him a prettily wrapped present. 

He could see the three attack pods now, flares of fire against the sky streaking downwards.

They’d impact far away from the Capsule House. Good.

“Hey, Vegeta,” Kakarot looped around him, hair whipping wildly round his head with the speed of his flight, “can I go first? How about it?”

“No. You can go second.” If this was the Ginyu force, then Vegeta intended to pay them back tenfold for every humiliation he’d suffered at their hands. A lifetime of gritting his teeth in the PTO’s curving hallways.

“Aw, but Vegeta, you’re not gonna leave ‘em in good enough shape for me to have any fun if I go second.”

Vegeta smirked. “Too bad for you.”

Kakarot was right. The Ginyu powers felt delightfully low compared to Vegeta’s own current strength.

He would tear them to shreds, and stand laughing in their bloody ruins.

* * *

Vegeta touched down in front of the pod craters, Kakarot landing at his shoulder. In his proper place behind his prince. 

It was reassuring, having Kakarot’s strength literally behind him. Vegeta didn’t know what the hell to do with that thought.

There was a soft hiss as the pods opened. Three blurs streaked out, one red, one blue, one purple.

The blurs resolved into three figures, running through a ridiculous set of poses and screaming their names before striking an even more ridiculous group pose with an even _more_ ridiculous timed screaming of their team name. 

Only Jeice, Burter, and Ginyu. Where were Recoome and Guldo?

“Huh, so that’s the Ginyu force,” Kakarot said in a perfectly even tone, sounding only mildly puzzled. Vegeta glanced briefly back over his shoulder to find Kakarot blinking in confusion at the display. “They’re a little odd, huh?”

“They’re Frieza’s strongest fighters,” Vegeta told him, refocusing his attention on the three Ginyus.

“They don’t look like that big a deal to me,” Kakarot said, and Vegeta was torn between the urge to agree with Kakarot and the lingering drag of years enduring the knowledge that the Ginyus stood far above him in both rank and power.

A handful of myria since Vegeta had landed on Earth, not even a year, and he’d improved his strength so much he barely recognized his former self, a PTO soldier who would have been kneeling before these Ginyu bastards. 

How much of that change did he owe to Kakarot’s relentless nature?

“Vegeta!” Burter had finally noticed them, “so nice of you to come out to greet us.”

“Frieza’s been missing you,” Jeice sneered, “he’ll be delighted to see you again.”

Vegeta snorted. “I’m not going back there.”

“Now now, Vegeta,” Burter moved forwards, flat red eyes disconcerting as ever, “is that any way to greet old friends?”

“We’ve all been trying so hard to find you,” Jeice agreed, moving forward with Burter in the start of a flanking motion, as if they could surround and pin down Vegeta and Kakarot.

The fools. Ginyu stood in the background, arms folded, ridiculously smug expression on his face.

“Wow, Vegeta, I didn’t know you were so popular back at the PTO,” Kakarot said in that same mild tone, and Vegeta grinned at the insulted expressions on Jeice and Burter’s faces. Trust Kakarot to play the fool in the most irritating way possible.

“Well, then,” Vegeta shifted slightly, poised to pounce, watched with satisfaction as Jeice and Burter tensed in reaction, “if you want me so badly, let’s go.”

* * *

“Well then, if you want me so badly let’s go,” Vegeta taunted the Ginyus, deep voice almost purring, and Goku felt a little too warm, the growled phrase _if you want me_ bouncing around in his head.

Vegeta had that manic, bloodthirsty grin back, eyes bright and teeth sharp. He looked wild and dangerous, a chaotic energy that couldn’t be contained. Goku had an insane urge to tangle his fingers in the wild spikes of Vegeta’s hair, to taste the heat of that smirk. 

He couldn’t wait to see Vegeta back in deadly action.

The little red Ginyu screamed loud enough to shatter eardrums and lunged forward, the blue one vanishing in a burst of speed. Jeice and Burter, they’d called themselves. 

Vegeta roared and released his power, ki flaring, and Goku jumped clear of the battlefield, landing to perch on a handy cliff nearby. He’d have a good view of the show from here.

The purple Ginyu appeared next to him, smiling mildly. Goku gave him a sideways glance. From the names screamed during their weird dance, this one was who the whole squad was named after.

“This looks like it will be a fun show, doesn’t it?” Ginyu said, sounding jolly. 

Goku blinked, thrown by the apparent friendliness. “Sure does.”

Below them, Jeice slammed into a cliff with an agonized cry. Vegeta laughed wildly, spun to deliver a brutal kick to Burter’s spine, sending him slamming into Jeice against the cliff, both howling in agony. 

Goku glanced sideways at Ginyu again. Would he interfere?

“Hooo!” Ginyu grinned, turned to Goku again, “Vegeta’s been training hard, hasn’t he?”

“Sure has,” Goku said, trying not to let his pride in Vegeta show too clearly in his voice, “he can deal with you all easy.”

Ki exploded below them, Vegeta flinging a volley of follow-up blasts against Jeice and Burter embedded in the cliff. Dust billowed, hiding the battlefield for a moment, but Goku could sense that Jeice and Burter weren’t dead yet. 

Vegeta would be able to sense the same. 

Ki flared again, Vegeta charging a single massive blast and flinging it unerringly at the flickers of ki from Jeice and Burter. Goku sensed those flickers of ki abruptly move, flying clear of Vegeta’s attack.

The dust blew away with the blast, leaving a clear view of Vegeta snarling and turning to catch Jeice’s fist, twisting and flinging Jeice into Burter to send them both crashing to the ground again. The two Ginyus scrambled and separated themselves just barely in time to avoid Vegeta’s knee crushing Burter’s windpipe, the ground cratering where Burter’s neck had just been.

Ki suddenly shifted at Goku’s side, and he slammed his kaioken up just in time to defend against Ginyu’s punch. The punishing blow connected with Goku’s crossed arms, flinging him backwards, kaioken not yet high enough for him to brace properly.

Goku connected with one of the distant cliffs, rock fragments showering his face.

Four ki flared in the distance, and something about Vegeta’s ki suddenly felt _wrong_ somehow.

“Shit,” Goku spat, startling a nearby bird-thing, and slammed his kaioken higher as he dove wildly back toward the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanging out with his brother and the other two Saiyans definitely increased Goku’s swearing frequency.
> 
> I’m posting this a day early! It was either a day early or a day late, next week back to the usual timing.


	20. Grounded: Reversal

He wished his dad were here. 

But he wasn’t, Gohan reminded himself as he flew, trailing Nappa’s huge form. His dad wasn’t here, so it was up to him to protect his mom, and Bulma, and Krillin, and his uncle. Even Nappa.

Two attack pods crashed into the ground a short distance in front of them. 

Gohan squinted, just barely able to make out the forms climbing the edges of the pod craters. One small and green with four eyes, and one huge and human-looking with bright orange hair. 

“Shit,” Nappa muttered, gesturing for their team to land, “of course it would be.”

* * *

The fucking Ginyu force. Only two of them, at least.

Damn Vegeta and Kakarot for their insistence on staying behind to keep training. If Vegeta was so convinced of the tech’s value, he should have come along himself.

“Nappa!” Recoome grinned, showing lots of teeth. “Long time no see, my dude, how’s it hangin’?”

“Uh, friends of yours?” Krillin asked from somewhere near Nappa’s knee, remaining stupidly optimistic.

_”Down on your knees, my man,” Recoome laughed, sweeping Nappa’s feet from under him to emphasize his point, “you might have been hot stuff back on your own planet, but you’re bottom of the pack up here.”_

_“Don’t touch him,” Vegeta spat, an ankle high ball of furious cub, and hurled a ki blast into Recoome’s teeth before Nappa could stop him._

_Recoome slammed Vegeta to the ground and stomped deliberately on his small hand. Nappa tried not to hear the high pitched noise of pain that his young prince made._

_“You gotta learn your place, little dude,” Recoome laughed as he ground his foot into Vegeta’s hand. Vegeta did not make any more noises, which seemed to disappoint Recoome, “we Ginyu, we don’t take no guff from anyone.”_

“No, we’re not friends,” Nappa growled, “keep your wits about you.”

Guldo laughed an ugly bubbling sort of laugh, and Nappa wondered if those rumors of telepathic powers were true.

Not a hell of a lot they could do to defend against that. No point scaring the Earthlings with it.

“Here’s the plan,” Nappa told the two Earthlings, “kill them as fast as possible.”

Krillin gulped, clearly afraid, and Gohan looked mutinous at the mention of killing.

Stuck facing the Ginyu force with a cowardly Earthling and a pacifist cub. 

Nappa couldn’t see this ending well.

* * *

Goku touched down close to Vegeta, scanning him for injury. What had caused that weird fluctuation to his ki? It was there, still, an undercurrent that felt _wrong_ , not Vegeta-like, in a way that made Goku’s skin crawl.

Vegeta smirked at him, looking unharmed. Behind him, Burter and Jeice climbed slowly to their feet, also smirking. 

The feeling of wrongness thrummed in Goku’s veins. Why had Vegeta stopped his attack?

Also, where the hell was Ginyu?

“Well, then,” Vegeta looked Goku thoroughly up and down, something calculating in his eyes, “let’s finish this up, shall we?”

Goku frowned. Vegeta’s voice was subtly off too, still his usual deep growl but with the words more rounded somehow, the cadence all wrong. 

_Why_ had Vegeta stopped attacking Burter and Jeice? He’d seemed hellbent on murdering them during the flight over.

Ki gathered in Vegeta’s palm, and that looked off too somehow, the energy not quite seeming to flow and shape the way Goku was expecting. Vegeta’s tail curved loosely behind him, sloppily released from his waist.

In the middle of a battle? That wasn’t like Vegeta at all.

Vegeta’s stance was angled towards Goku, and his smirk was ugly.

Goku dodged, boosted by his kaioken, so that Vegeta’s energy blast flew harmlessly past him.

“What the _hell,_ Vegeta?” Goku caught the punch Vegeta threw next, noted that Vegeta’s form had been way off, none of his usual grace. “What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”

Ki exploded against Goku’s stomach, sending him backwards coughing, and Vegeta followed up with another volley of blasts. Goku swatted them aside, growling. 

“Hah!” Vegeta wasn’t even laughing right, “you’re better than I thought!”

“You’re a lot _worse_ than I thought,” Goku snapped back, fists clenching. 

“Kakarot!” The voice was Ginyu’s, his purple form emerging from the forest. 

Goku jolted, caught by the familiarity of that cadence. His name pronounced sharp and bitten off, the way Vegeta always said it. 

Ginyu’s face looked different, eyes wide with shock. Something in his ki had changed. Felt familiar.

“Kakarot, _that isn’t me._ ”

Vegeta barked a laugh, flinging ki at Ginyu. Ginyu dodged. 

Or was that the other way around?

* * *

Kakarot was _useless._ Vegeta had very clearly explained the situation to him, but Kakarot still stood there gaping like an idiot. 

Ginyu, meanwhile, the body snatching _bastard_ , was making good progress towards killing Vegeta himself _using Vegeta’s own damn body._

The strength that Vegeta had been honing to defeat Frieza. To reinstate his race as proud warriors, independent, servants to no one. 

The strength that Vegeta had trained and sweated and bled for, taken in seconds by that abominable technique. 

If Kakarot didn’t snap out of it soon, Ginyu would take Vegeta’s body right back into Frieza’s service. 

Ginyu used his stolen body to land a crushing blow, caving in several ribs of the purple monstrosity that Vegeta found himself forced to occupy. 

Vegeta growled, hated how it sounded in this body that wasn’t his. He lunged to counterattack, not caring that the motion worsened the damage around his ribs, not caring whether or not this hateful purple body lasted in the long run.

Death in battle was acceptable, honorable even. What would be utterly unconscionable would be for Vegeta’s own body, his Saiyan strength, to fall back under Frieza’s control. 

He had to destroy Ginyu before that could happen. All other concerns were secondary.

* * *

Gohan scanned the two beings in front of him. They didn’t seem all that scary. The green one was even shorter than Gohan was. 

“What do you think, Guldo?” The tall red-haired one turned to the little green one. “You want Nappa, or the two shrimps?”

Behind Gohan, Nappa snorted derisively. “Your little friend there’s a coward, Recoome. You really think he’ll volunteer to take on someone five times his size?”

Gohan’s ki sense was telling him that Recoome was a _lot_ stronger than Guldo. Did Nappa have confidence in Gohan and Krillin’s teamwork against him? Gohan really hoped that was the explanation.

“That’s a lie!” Guldo snarled, his voice burbling in an unsettling way, “I can take you easy!”

“There ya have it, then!” Recoome grinned, turned his attention to Gohan and Krillin. “Come on shrimps, let’s play.”

Krillin gave Nappa a deeply accusing look, then turned and gave Gohan a serious nod. 

“Let’s not all go at once, now,” Recoome’s grin never wavered, “come on, I want to see the show!”

Guldo stepped forward, looking like he was regretting his choices, and glowered at Nappa. Nappa shrugged, marching solidly forwards. Gohan and Krillin jumped back, clearing space for the match. 

Nappa turned and frowned at them. “Farther back.”

Just what kind of fight was he expecting? Krillin tugged Gohan much further back. Gohan noticed his friend was incredibly tense. 

Surely this had to be a safe distance?

The ki blast Nappa hurled to start things off connected with empty ground where Guldo had stood a second ago. 

“H-How did he move that fast?” Krillin sounded shaken.

Gohan shook his head. “I couldn’t see it either.” 

He could track awfully fast movements, after training with his dad. Just how fast was this enemy?

Guldo had reappeared behind Nappa, was readying an attack, but Nappa twisted to fling another volley of ki blasts at him before Guldo could make a move. Gohan tried to learn from the sequence, the battle. Nappa wasn’t as strong as his dad, but he had fought an awful lot of battles. There would be things Gohan could learn.

Except Guldo was moving so _fast_. Vanished again and reappeared on Nappa’s other side, moving at a speed that seemed completely at odds with how slow he’d been to attack.

“I can’t track him when he does that,” Gohan frowned, uneasy, hoping Krillin could explain it. “I should still be able to sense his ki, shouldn’t I?”

Krillin shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Guldo sneered, charging closer to Nappa, ki gathered for a blow to Nappa’s back. Gohan tensed. Should he call a warning? Surely Nappa could sense Guldo easily, he usually picked up ki no problem these days.

Nappa gestured, two fingers held together pointing to the sky, and the ground around him cratered in the radius of a small city, charred to nothing.

Guldo’s ki winked out. Gohan froze, breath stilled in shock at the causal way Nappa had just extinguished a life.

“Woah!” Recoome applauded, seemingly uncaring about the death of his teammate, “cool move, dude, never knew you could do that! What a way to deal with Guldo’s time freeze!”

Time freeze?

Krillin gulped. “Is it just me, or does that sound like the little green guy could actually _freeze time?_ ”

That would explain how he’d seemed to move so fast while otherwise being so slow. 

Was that why Nappa had said that the only way to win was to kill them as quickly as possible? Because the enemy had strange techniques that they couldn’t fight the normal way?

Gohan clenched his fists. He wished it was easier to tell what Nappa was thinking.

* * *

Ginyu had somehow stolen Vegeta’s body. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Everything _off_ that Goku had noticed, the reason why Jeice and Burter had been allowed to climb back to their feet.

Probably-Vegeta-in-Ginyu’s-body telling him outright. That was a pretty big clue. 

Vegeta’s body continued to attack Ginyu’s body. The brutality was classic Vegeta, but the movements were not. 

The Ginyu body was losing badly. 

Goku grimaced, lunged in to kick Vegeta’s body into the distance. Ginyu’s body glared at him. 

“Took you long enough, what did you want, a written invitation?”

That _really_ sounded like Vegeta. But this was important to get right.

Goku frowned at the purple body wearing Vegeta’s trademark irritated expression. “Vegeta, keza at tozkam natka a tbematz? ”

Probably-Vegeta’s eyes widened. “T’go ot bacon ot kuzhite tozkam-at-shkon, Kakarot, itaz kra Sadalan a hanzmatz?”

“I only speak it a little.” Goku switched back to Standard, shrugging. Yeah, that was definitely Vegeta in there, no way that any of the Ginyu would have bothered to learn Sadalan.

Vegeta’s stolen ki flared in the distance, Ginyu charging back towards them. 

“Kakarot,” the purple body that Vegeta was stuck in grabbed the front of Goku’s gi with an intense expression, “you have to defeat him. You can’t let him take my body back to Frieza.”

“Right,” Goku swallowed hard, “I’ll beat him, then we’ll figure out how to get you back where you should be.”

The hold on Goku’s gi tightened. “You have to be prepared to kill him, Kakarot.”

“What?!” Goku bit off his yelp. “Vegeta, that’s your body! If I kill it, then you can’t go back!”

“That’s better than Frieza getting it,” Vegeta growled, “don’t be so soft, Kakarot, fighting to wound when your enemy is fighting to kill will put you at too big a disadvantage.”

Goku growled back. “That’s my call.”

“Of all the—,” 

They dived apart to avoid a ki blast, thrown by Ginyu, standing there using Vegeta’s face to sneer at them. 

Goku snarled and lunged. He’d win this, and he’d win this his way.

Then Ginyu would give Vegeta’s body back, and everything would be okay again.

* * *

Krillin looked at the charred circle of ground and shuddered. 

He really wouldn’t want Nappa as an enemy.

“C’mon, little dudes, it’s our turn!” Recoome was grinning still, bouncing through a series of warm up stretches. 

Recoome sounded so friendly. Krillin couldn’t reconcile that with how tense Nappa was, looking at him. The way that Recoome had laughed off his teammate’s death.

“I’m ready.” Gohan stepped forward next to Krillin, fists clenched. 

Just a kid, and already shouldering so much. Krillin wished he could do more to shield Gohan from all this. It felt so recent that Goku had been introducing them all to his son on Master Roshi’s island, just a tiny little toddler. 

It had taken a good long while for Krillin to pick his jaw up off the floor back then. Goku getting married was one thing, but becoming a dad almost immediately?

He was damn good at it, though. Fatherhood suited him.

“Okay, Gohan,” Krillin braced himself for fighting, shoulder to shoulder with Gohan, “our best bet is to keep him off balance. You pack more of a punch than I can, so I’ll distract him, and you do what you can to land a hit.”

Krillin might be only a human, with far less firepower than any of the Saiyans, but damned if he was going to be deadweight in this fight.

* * *

Goku was used to fighting Vegeta in their spars. Was used to his movements, his smirk, the collision of their limbs.

Ginyu in Vegeta’s body was making his movements all wrong, was setting Vegeta’s face into the wrong lines. 

Was making a very concerted effort to kill Goku.

Goku dodged a ki blade, holding his kaioken high and steady. The ki blade passed his neck by a hairbreadth.

“Stop holding back!” Vegeta yelled at him from Ginyu’s body.

Goku grimaced. Ginyu overshot his next movement, more confident than his power and control warranted, and Goku grabbed his right arm and twisted it. 

Shock crossed Vegeta’s face as Goku kept twisting, on course to dislocate that shoulder entirely, and Goku forgot just who was currently wearing that face for long enough to falter. 

Energy slammed into the back of Goku’s head, momentarily stunning him. Goku snarled and twisted, flinging ki back at Jeice. 

Pain lanced Goku’s chest, doubling him over spitting blood. 

The purple body currently housing Vegeta leaped towards Jeice and sliced off Jeice’s head with a ki blade. Burter let out an anguished howl, diving towards Vegeta.

“Pay _attention_ , Kakarot!” 

Ginyu laughed with Vegeta’s voice, and Goku growled at him, punching Ginyu’s left shoulder hard enough to pop it out of its socket. Probably still not fully recovered rom Vegeta’s slip yesterday. The ki blade that Ginyu had been bringing towards Goku’s neck sizzled and vanished as the arm dropped limply. 

That still left Goku bleeding freely from the earlier ki blade he’d taken between the ribs.

Vegeta snarled often, but Ginyu was doing it all wrong. It made it easier for Goku to follow up with a high powered ki blast to his torso, slamming Vegeta’s body into a crater in the rocks below with far more force than he’d normally use. 

Goku followed him down, ignoring the searing agony in his chest. He’d deal with that wound later.

Ginyu was struggling to rise, coughing. Probably broken ribs and organ damage. That ki blast had been leveled to cause real hurt. 

Goku straddled him, pinning the still functional right arm while he charged and held a ki blast, aiming point blank at the stolen face Ginyu wore.

Those familiar black eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” Goku narrowed his eyes. “Give Vegeta back his body, or I’ll kill you along with it.”

Ginyu burst into an ugly laugh, edges all wrong and not like Vegeta usually sounded at all. 

Light flared, and Goku suddenly couldn’t move a muscle. Ginyu’s stolen mouth stretched wide, light seeming to gather there.

Shit. Why couldn’t he _move?_

Weight slammed into Goku’s shoulder, knocking him away from Ginyu as the light flared to blinding. Goku sprawled to the ground, gasping, suddenly able to draw breath again. Able to move.

What the hell? Goku rolled to a crouch, swiveling to face Ginyu. The purple body was now strangling Vegeta’s body, cursing. 

Those weren’t the curse words Vegeta normally used. 

Goku lunged, kicking the purple body into the side of the crater.

“Vegeta, hanzmatz’na.” Say something, Goku hoped he’d managed to ask.

A familiar laugh. “Jhi’bat kradar zakou’t.” Goku was pretty sure Vegeta had said he was back where he belonged, but the main thing that mattered was that Vegeta’s body was once again the one speaking Sadalan.

Ginyu was Ginyu again. 

“You—!” Ginyu pushed himself out of the rock, struggling to say upright. Vegeta had racked up a hell of a lot of damage on that body in the short time he’d occupied it. “Filthy monkeys!”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Goku said, slamming another ki blast into Ginyu before he could get any closer.

“Hah,” Ginyu doubled over, wheezing, “didn’t know you monkeys could get that strong.”

Goku charged another ki blast, then paused instead of throwing it. Ginyu looked pretty thoroughly defeated.

“What are you _waiting_ for,” Vegeta snarled from the ground, “hurry up and kill him!”

It just seemed so unnecessary, to murder an enemy who was already defeated. Goku set his teeth, tried to figure out his next move.

He really needed to start carrying ki dampeners around. Should have remembered that after the whole mess with Zarbon.

Ginyu looked at him, grinned, and suddenly everything froze in place again, light building.

Shit.

* * *

Nappa watched the boy and the Earthling square off against Recoome.

It would take a miracle for them all to survive this.

“I’m a nice guy, you know,” Recoome grinned through his lying teeth, “so nice I’ll let you little guys take the first shot.”

Krillin shifted to an unfamiliar stance, smile tense. “Well, if you insist.”

The spinning disk of ki he launched towards Recoome was no joke. Nappa was grudgingly impressed. Recoome grinned, braced as if he’d try to catch the attack, and Nappa bit back a laugh before it could tip the idiot off. 

Recoome leaped aside at the last minute, only to have Gohan’s ki blast slam into the back of his head.

“You—!”

Recoome didn’t get to finish that sentence, Krillin already pressing him to dodge with another ki blast. Too slow to hit, Nappa noticed, grimacing. Recoome turned, raising a hand with a blast that would almost certainly end Krillin’s role in this fight, when the ki blast Krillin had thrown earlier exploded, small bursts scattering against Recoome’s back with just enough impact to distract him.

Nappa grinned as he watched Gohan’s foot slam into Recoome’s head, sending Recoome flying. Gohan raced to follow, face serious, and flung one of his blue Kame-whatsit blasts down from the air, hitting Recoome head on and cratering the ground around him.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

* * *

Recoome stood back up, and Gohan grit his teeth. This opponent was far, far tougher than anyone he’d faced previously. 

Krillin’s ki felt low now, and Gohan worried that his friend was running out of energy.

“Not bad, little dudes!” Recoome brushed some dust off what was left of his uniform, grin just as toothy as it had started, “you’re giving me a real workout, here!”

That Kamehameha hadn’t even phased him. Gohan didn’t have any attacks stronger than that. 

Recoome exploded into motion, and Gohan launched clear just in time. Krillin followed up with another ki blast, drawing Recoome’s attention again. 

Gohan braced, gathering ki for another Kamehameha. One more time. 

Krillin screamed, Recoome’s fist buried in his stomach.

So fast. 

“Krillin!” Gohan’s focus slipped, energy dissipating. 

Recoome laughed, dropped Krillin to the ground, planted a foot on his chest. “You put up a good fight, little man.”

Gohan flung a volley of ki blasts at Recoome’s head. The man shrugged them off. “Your turn’ll come soon enough.”

Krillin screamed again, Recoome’s boot crushing down on him.

He couldn’t let this happen. Gohan dove at Recoome’s head, aiming to hit him with a kick to the face, but Recoome ducked. Spinning, Gohan aimed for his back this time, but Recoome only grunted in annoyance. Pressed his foot down harder, so that Krillin made an awful gurgling noise.

“Let him go!” Gohan screamed, raining more kicks and punches on Recoome. Not enough to hurt him. Nothing Gohan did was enough to hurt him.

It was enough to _annoy_ him, though. Recoome grunted, then snapped a fist into Gohan’s face. The world darkened for a moment, and for a precious few more seconds all Gohan could register was the pain in his nose, the tang of iron in his mouth. 

Recoome yelled in annoyance. 

What?

Gohan pushed himself back upright, forced his eyes to focus on the battlefield. Nappa had slipped behind Recoome, using his larger bulk to pin Recoome in a headlock. 

He wouldn’t be able to hold him for long. Gohan could feel Recoome’s ki fluctuating, sparking, preparing for an attack. 

If he got tired of playing, he could finish all three of them off no problem. 

“Cheating monkey,” Recoome said, breath short. Slammed his head back, crunching Nappa’s nose in a gush of red. 

Gohan dove again, landing a successful kick in Recoome’s face this time. Recoome roared in rage, thrashing against Nappa, but Gohan sensed Recoome lose his grip on the ki attack he’d been gathering.

A few more seconds bought for them to think of a way out of this.

“Ugh.” Krillin was dragging himself upright, out of the crater Recoome had pressed him into.

“Krillin, careful—,” Gohan was scared for his friend, already hurt so badly, just barely healed from his injuries during their last fight.

Still sitting sagged forward on the ground, one arm wrapped around his ribs, Krillin raised a hand above his head, face twisted in a grimace. He materialized a ki-en-zan, the spinning gold ki disc flaring abruptly to life in his palm.

The razor edge sliced deep through Recoome’s armor, spraying Krillin with red. Gurgling, Recoome stopped struggling. Dead weight in Nappa’s grip. 

“Fuck.” Nappa staggered back a step, dropped Recoome. Gohan felt as though he was viewing the world from very far away. Recoome’s body fell to the ground just clear of where Krillin sat slumped.

* * *

That light must be for the body switching. Goku struggled to get his muscles to work again, couldn’t make any progress. Ginyu’s mouth stretched wide, ominous. 

Something impacted Goku’s ankle, hard, and he collapsed backwards onto Vegeta, drawing a yell of pain. The light shot over Goku’s head, looked like it hit a tiny body near the crater’s wall.

“Kakarot, nat’ta mdaz emzake?” Vegeta gasped, sounding like each word was a struggle.

“Hou, Ateh’r mdaz emzakou,” Goku reassured him, pushing into a sitting position so his weight was no longer resting on top of Vegeta.

What had happened to Ginyu?

Goku glanced up just in time to see Ginyu’s purple body scuttle up the wall of the crater in a decidedly lizard-like motion before vanishing. He glanced down to see if Vegeta had also caught that.

“What the fuck?” Vegeta accurately summarized, eyes wide. 

A soft scrabbling noise on the wall behind Goku caught his attention, and he twisted to see a small lizard vanish into the crevices of the rocks. He grinned. 

“Pretty sure Ginyu just switched places with that there lizard, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s laugh started as a soft chuckle, then built into a full on roar. Goku grinned down at him, utterly relieved by the familiarity of it. Gasping, Vegeta finally got himself back under control, lifting his right hand to brace against his ribs for a moment as if they were hurting him. 

“Serves the bastard right,” Vegeta said, amusement clear in his voice, his own special smirk back in place. The sheer rightness of it melted away the last of the ball of fear that had settled in Goku’s stomach when he first felt Vegeta’s ki shift, left Goku giddy with relief. 

Hissing slightly, Vegeta braced himself on his still usable right elbow, and pushed himself off the ground, clearly aiming for a sitting position. 

Goku slid an arm around him to help up, found himself pulling Vegeta closer. Vegeta met his eyes, lips still quirked in amusement, and Goku pressed their mouths together.

Vegeta leaned into the kiss, pliant in Goku’s grasp, content for once to let Goku take his weight. Goku shifted the arm he had wrapped around Vegeta, splaying his hand flat against the warmth of Vegeta’s back, and sighed happily as Vegeta’s right arm came up to loop around Goku’s neck. 

The kiss deepened, Vegeta pressing Goku’s mouth open to slide his tongue against Goku’s, and Goku let out a happy moan. 

Abruptly Vegeta pulled away, and Goku made a noise that might have classified as a whine. 

“Why are we stopping?”

“You,” Vegeta narrowed his eyes, and Goku wondered what he’d done wrong, “just how badly are you injured?”

Goku became aware again of the tang of iron in his own mouth, ignored during the battle. The throbbing pain in his chest where Ginyu had stabbed him abruptly reasserted itself, adrenaline of the fight and its aftermath wearing thin. 

“Um.” Goku’s throat tickled and he coughed, realized he couldn’t stop. Found himself bent over, hacking up more blood into his hand, spattering Vegeta in the process. 

Vegeta wrinkled his nose, but mostly just looked concerned. 

“Uh, maybe we should get back to the Capsule House,” Goku offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadalan translation notes - keep in mind that I’m not a linguist and these are pretty haphazard, it’d take a lot more to build a functional language, this is just for mood/tone. I’ve learned since starting this that there’s an existing Saiyan dictionary being built for fandom, but I started this one based loosely on Japanese (since the original series is in Japanese, I went with the best option as updating some of the tonalities and shifting the sentence structure a little to make it sound rougher and more bitten off, with various other changes as they felt necessary; so you might recognize that tbematz is a bit like tabemasu, and hanzmatz is a bit like hanashimasu).
> 
> Keza at tozkam natka a tbematz? -> What did we have for breakfast this morning?  
> T’go ot bacon ot kuzhite tozkam at shkon, Kakarot, itaz kra Sadalan a hanzmatz? -> Eggs and bacon and fucking breakfast food, Kakarot, since when do you speak Sadalan?  
> Hanzmatz’na -> Say something  
> Jhi’bat kradar zakou’t ->I’m back in my own body


	21. Grounded: Exposed

Uleb stood in his corner and shivered as Frieza smiled at Yapaya’s report. 

“So, we have the treacherous monkeys grounded,” Frieza swirled his glass of wine. Uleb assessed the level of the remaining liquid, tensed in preparation to dart forward for a refill at the next available opportunity. “Kaneks and… Mr Yapaya, what was the one where the lesser monkeys crashed?”

“Namek, my lord.” Yapaya stood at crisp attention, barely controlling his smug smile. 

“Burter confirmed that the traitorous Vegeta is on Kaneks.” Frieza took a sip of wine. “Prepare my transport, Mr Yapaya. I shall begin by paying a visit to that thankless former prince. Personally.”

* * *

Goku stumbled as he touched down outside the door to the Capsule Home, another cough dragging more blood up his throat. 

Vegeta landed next to him, then promptly collapsed to his knees, just barely catching himself with his right hand instead of landing face first on the doormat.

_Standing was harder than he’d expected, his limbs starting to tingle in a way that was probably bad. He watched Vegeta grit his teeth before popping his own left shoulder back into place, wincing as the joint clunked home._

_Gathering ki for flight took all of Goku’s concentration, and he was distantly surprised that Vegeta was also managing it. Burter’s body lay sprawled next to most of Jeice’s, blue neck twisted at an unnatural angle. More of Vegeta’s work. All Goku could muster up at the moment was relief that there weren’t any more attacks coming._

“C’mon, Vegeta, just a bit more.” Goku braced one hand against the doorframe, and used the other to drag Vegeta upright with a grip around Vegeta’s right bicep. 

“Gh,” Vegeta said, which was also pretty much how Goku felt about the whole thing. 

It had mostly been nice to have the planet to themselves. But there was no one around to give medical aid if he and Vegeta both passed out at the same time.

They should really try not to do that.

Goku could tell that Vegeta was really hurting, because he didn’t push away Goku’s supporting arm. Leaning against each other, they managed to stagger to the medbay. Goku pushed Vegeta onto the room’s metal table.

Vegeta glared at him. “You’re bleeding all over the place. We need to stitch that.”

“Stitch?” Panic crawled up Goku’s throat, “stitch like with a needle?”

“Of course, how else?” Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t optional, Kakarot. Take off your shirt.”

“Um.” After that kiss earlier, Goku really wished Vegeta was ordering him to take his clothes off in a different context. “Um, no, I’m good, I don’t think I need any stitches.”

“Shirt. Off.” Vegeta growled. “Don’t be such a baby, it’s only a needle.”

Goku backed up until he hit the wall, shaking his head frantically. “Nuh uh, no way, no needles.”

Vegeta stared at him, lip curling, and Goku braced for yelling. 

He didn’t care. Getting yelled at was way better than getting a needle. Anything was better than getting a needle.

The sigh as Vegeta let out his breath was audible across the room. “Kakarot, come here.”

Goku narrowed his eyes. Vegeta didn’t look angry anymore. His face had settled into something neutral, almost encouraging. As Goku hesitated, Vegeta tipped his head slightly, and flicked his tail in a way that looked inviting. 

“Um, why?” Goku edged closer, scanning the surroundings to make sure that Vegeta hadn’t somehow managed to get a hold of a needle and hide it.

Vegeta grabbed a fistful of Goku’s shredded gi once Goku got within range, but the motion didn’t look angry. He slowly tugged Goku closer. 

Oh. 

Goku leaned forward. Vegeta’s lips warm against his own again. Goku sighed, relaxing into the kiss, feeling tension seep back out of him. Vegeta slid his hand up Goku’s chest, and that felt nice too, especially when Vegeta started carding his fingers through the hair at the base of Goku’s neck. 

They should probably finish the medical stuff at some point, but this was way better. Goku leaned closer, relishing the slide of Vegeta’s tongue against his. Vegeta continued moving his fingers through Goku’s hair, against his neck, and wow that felt good.

Then Vegeta jabbed a finger sharply at a very specific part of Goku’s neck, and Goku had only a second to think _oh shit_ before he slid into unconsciousness.

* * *

Kakarot crumpled, and Vegeta let him fall to the ground with a thud. 

The absolute moron. Such irrationality over something as small as a needle.

Grimacing, Vegeta dragged himself off the examination table, narrowly managing to avoid stepping on Kakarot, and crossed the room to dig out the needle and thread. Antiseptic. Bandages. He was familiar with their locations from watching ChiChi gather them when Vegeta’s own injuries had needed attention. 

Standing was exhausting. He dropped on his knees next to Kakarot, deposited his medical supplies on a clean towel to keep them off the floor. 

There wasn’t much of Kakarot’s shirt left. Vegeta tore it off, and was vaguely disappointed that he wasn’t doing that under more enjoyable circumstances. 

Kakarot was a surprisingly good kisser. For long moments on the battlefield, it hadn’t occurred to Vegeta that he might want to say no. 

But then, why would he say no? He’d had plenty of time to come to terms with Kakarot’s attractiveness, to process that he wanted him.

Except. That lying bastard had been deceiving Vegeta this entire time. The ease with which he’d taken down Ginyu in Vegeta’s stolen body spoke to far more strength than Kakarot had ever displayed during their spars.

How _dare_ he make a fool of Vegeta like that.

He’d still be more useful alive. Vegeta could use the lying bastard to defeat Frieza, before discarding him.

The exposed wound on Kakarot’s chest was serious. With the location and the way he’d been coughing up blood, it had probably pierced the lung. 

There was fuckall Vegeta could do about that with the medical supplies on hand. He didn’t have the expertise to attempt to stitch something as delicate as a lung even when his own limbs weren’t borderline refusing to function. Better to disturb it as little as possible, and hope that Kakarot’s Saiyan healing would be enough to close the wound in time. 

The bleeding, however, Vegeta could slow. Stitching would also keep Kakarot’s muscles aligned as he healed. That would at least reduce the burden on Kakarot’s body, as would sterilizing the wound.

It would have to do.

* * *

“Shit,” Bulma muttered, prodding at the innards of the ship, “there’s not much left here to work with.” 

Raditz grimaced. She was right. There was no way they’d be able to get the ship space worthy again. At best, they might be able to patch the communications array back together. 

Most of his attention was on the distant battle, not the ship. Ki flaring up and down.

Only three powers remained. He was pretty sure they were all allies. 

That seemed a little much to hope for, with the way this day had been going.

“Hey, come help me with the heavy lifting.” Bulma was frowning at him, her unnaturally blue eyes disconcerting as ever. 

“Sure.” Raditz ambled over, lifted what she pointed to. Let his attention wander again, as he stood holding the ship paneling, to worry again at the distant battle.

Who the hell had followed them here so fast, and why?

* * *

Goku woke with a startled gasp. The ceiling seemed too far away.

Was he lying on the floor?

Vegeta. That asshole.

“Took you long enough,” Vegeta drawled from somewhere nearby.

Goku grimaced and gingerly sat up. The wound on his chest had been cleaned and bandaged, and honestly did feel a lot better. He tried not to think about the stitches that Vegeta must have put in.

At least he wasn’t as dizzy as he’d been before.

“Go get yourself an energy drink,” Vegeta ordered, pointing imperiously at the small fridge against the medbay wall. Goku pushed himself to his slightly unsteady feet and crossed the room, surprised himself by swallowing the entire drink in more or less one go.

“Have a second, then, you’re probably dehydrated.” Vegeta was sitting on the examination table stripped down to his underwear, awkwardly trying to wrap his left shoulder. His tail was helping, but it still didn’t look like he was able to draw the tension quite right. Goku could see that he’d had time already to clean and bandage the scrapes along his arms and legs, marks gouged by the rocky ground when he’d plummeted into it.

“Here, let me get that.” Goku ignored the dehydration comment and instead crossed the room to take over wrapping Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta glared, but let him. 

“We should probably ice this too,” Goku said absently, winding the bandages into place. Vegeta made a grudging noise of agreement. 

Goku finished wrapping Vegeta’s shoulder, grabbed another roll of bandaging and sat to start wrapping Vegeta’s ribs. He grazed his fingers carefully over Vegeta’s bare skin first, probing and hoping to confirm that the cracked ribs were more or less still in the right position.

Small wonder, it felt like they were.

Wrapping Vegeta’s ribs felt unexpectedly intimate, Goku passing the bandaging around Vegeta’s surprisingly small frame and brushing warm skin with each movement. He secured the end of the bandage when he finished, looked up to meet Vegeta’s dark eyes. 

Their faces were so close. There was heat in Vegeta’s gaze. Goku shivered, tipped his head upwards, angling for another kiss. 

Vegeta planted a bare hand against Goku’s bandaged chest. “No,” he growled. 

“What?” Goku blinked, confused. Vegeta had seemed pretty interested earlier. “Why?”

“Did you think I didn’t _notice?_ ” Scorn dripped from Vegeta’s voice. “You’ve been holding out on me in our spars, Kakarot. You _liar._ ”

Goku drew back, grimaced. It was true that he hadn’t been using the full extent of his kaioken against Vegeta, even during his peak bursts. It wouldn’t have had any benefit for their training.

He doubted Vegeta would accept that as an answer.

All prickly pride. Goku should have expected that decision to come back to haunt him. 

“Sorry,” he said instead, biting his tongue against any attempt at further explanation. 

Vegeta growled. “That’s not _enough_.”

Things were never easy, with Vegeta.

* * *

Gohan helped Krillin sit up. His friend was grimacing, holding his ribs. 

Badly hurt. 

“Come on,” Gohan wrapped an arm around Krillin, supporting him, “let’s get back to my mom, she can help.”

Nappa snorted. “With that wreck of a medbay?”

“She can still _help_ ,” Gohan snapped, glaring. Now that he turned to look, Nappa was in bad shape too. Recoome must have landed some hits to his ribs, as well as the more visible damage to his nose. 

“There are three more,” Nappa said, an apparent non-sequitur. Gohan frowned. “Three more Ginyu,” Nappa elaborated. 

“ _What?_ ” It was hard to tell if Krillin was gasping with shock or pain. Probably both.

Gohan bit his lip and wished he’d been able to do more.

* * *

Small mercies, the Capsule Home came stocked with frozen ready meals. Vegeta left Kakarot the task of heating a batch up, limped into the living area to grab a blanket. 

Actual clothes would have been better, but his bedroom seemed impossibly far away right now.

Kakarot had been able to deal plenty of damage, once he’d gotten serious. Vegeta had no doubt that Kakarot could have delivered a fatal blow. Only his softness had held him back.

Vegeta was grudgingly grateful for that at present. 

Their meal was silent, both of them inhaling food as quickly as possible. It felt like every muscle in his body was bruised or sprained, and Vegeta was distantly surprised that he’d been able to literally walk away from that fight.

Had Kakarot been able to calculate his strike so precisely?

“Phew.” Kakarot sat back, apparently satisfied with his meal, then winced as his careless motion tugged at the wound in his chest.

If ChiChi were here, she’d tell them both to rest. That wasn’t a bad idea. 

“We should call the others.” Vegeta wasn’t looking forward to the questions they’d surely get, but it would be worth warning them about the Ginyu’s appearance.

Vegeta recalled that there had been two Ginyu unaccounted for. His spine crawled. 

Where were the other two?

“Yeah, I’m surprised they haven’t called already.” Kakarot eyed Vegeta’s remaining food, then got up to put some more portions in the microwave. “Do we have any missed messages?”

“No idea.” They’d need to go to the communications room to check. A short walk under normal circumstances, suddenly exhaustingly far. 

Kakarot hummed, then delivered the additional food to the pile Vegeta was working through. “I’ll go check.”

* * *

Bulma turned, and came face to face with Piccolo. She screamed. 

Raditz abruptly appeared between them, fists raised, cloud of hair blocking Bulma’s view of Piccolo. 

“Wait.” A scrape on the ground as Raditz moved his boot, becoming slightly taller. He must have risen out of his fighting crouch. “Piccolo? Weren’t you an ally? Didn’t we leave you on Earth?” 

“Yeah,” Bulma said, and made an apologetic face when Raditz turned to her with scrunched eyebrows, “look, that face is still scary okay, and I wasn’t expecting it here.”

“My name is not Piccolo,” said Piccolo, “and I find it odd that you were not expecting to see a Namekian on Planet Namek.”

Planet what now?

* * *

They had to assume that Frieza knew where they were.

But there was no way off the planet. They couldn’t make contact with the rest of the team. No missed messages, no one answering comms when they tried to call through. 

Stealing the Ginyu’s ships would be beyond stupid, they were bound to be loaded with trackers. Nothing more than a trap to be disposed of in space where they couldn’t even go down fighting.

Vegeta snarled in frustration, the noise echoing off the bathroom tiles. They were wounded, hunted, and trapped. 

And the fight had left him sticky. It was minor, in the scheme of things, but a deep and current irritation. If Raditz had been here, he would have insisted on helping. But he wasn’t, and Vegeta was damned if he’d ask Kakarot for help getting his hair clean. Kakarot was wounded anyway. 

It was possible to get some of the stickiness off with a damp cloth, at least. Damned bandaging was too extensive to mess with taking a shower, unless he wanted to spend an hour rewrapping everything. 

Dammit all. They weren’t ready. They weren’t ready to face Frieza yet. 

They needed more time. Vegeta needed to get stronger first.

Kakarot was far ahead of him.

The thought rose unbidden, scalding him. Kakarot had surpassed Vegeta, may well have depths to his power that Vegeta hadn’t even seen yet. Just now much more was the bastard holding back?

Soli defend him, was Vegeta truly entertaining the possibility that the one to defeat Frieza might be Kakarot, not himself?

The door clicked open, and Vegeta looked in the mirror to meet Kakarot’s startled gaze.

* * *

“I, um, sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” Goku’s face felt like it was burning. He’d staggered into bathroom unthinking, hoping to take some semblance of a shower, only to find Vegeta already occupying the room. 

Naked, except for his bandages. Goku had an excellent view of Vegeta’s bare back and toned ass, tail twitching in irritation. Vegeta stared at him through the mirror, apparently uninterested in turning. 

“I’ll just, uh, leave,” Goku started to back out of the room, then froze. “Hey, your arm’s bleeding.”

Red was spotting the bandage wrapped around Vegeta’s right arm. He must have been moving it too much.

“Kakarot.” Goku froze under the intensity of Vegeta’s stare in the mirror. “Listen.”

Goku couldn’t move, suddenly. Even standing naked and bandaged, Vegeta exuded power, command. 

Something that made Goku want to listen. 

“Frieza destroyed our planet,” Vegeta told him softly, reflected dark eyes fathomless, and Goku’s breath froze, “he destroyed our planet, then he _used_ us. Tools in his army.”

 _Frieza_ had been the one to destroy the Saiyan planet? Why had no one mentioned that before? 

“He has to be defeated by a Saiyan,” Vegeta growled, head dipping, back still to Goku. The bench top cracked as Vegeta’s hands curled into fists. “Frieza has been grinding the Saiyan people into the dirt since he first set foot on our planet, and he has to _pay_.”

Goku shivered.

Vegeta turned slightly, staring at Goku over his shoulder. “You might be able to do it, Kakarot. Your power makes no sense. Maybe you _can_ manage to become a Super Saiyan.”

That wasn’t a word Goku had heard before, but he was completely unable to form a sentence right now to ask about it.

“You have to let go of your softness.” Vegeta’s tail twitched in emphasis. “Kakarot, if you have the chance, you need to kill him. You’re capable of more than you think.”

“I -,” Goku’s head was swimming. He couldn’t have dragged his eyes away from Vegeta if his life depended on it. Not only was Vegeta stunning, all golden skin and barely contained rage, but his words were digging into Goku. Digging too far.

Goku shook himself. “I’m not that kind of warrior, Vegeta.” He wouldn’t abandon his Earth morals so easily.

“You can’t deny your heritage, Kakarot. The blood of warriors flows in your veins. Find your Saiyan pride.”

Goku shivered, felt like he was the one standing naked, pinned by Vegeta’s dark eyes. He licked dry lips.

“Your parents, your people, gone. Frieza is the reason you will never know them. We must avenge our race.”

Our race. Goku felt a pang that he’d never know more than a handful of other people so fundamentally built like him. 

Frieza’s work.

Vegeta hadn’t finished. “Kakarot, the strength that you’ve built,” he paused, hands flexing, shattered more of the counter, grimaced as if in pain, “you may be the only one able to do it.”

Goku stayed frozen. Vegeta’s voice was so raw, so full of pain. 

“He’s afraid,” Vegeta continued, sounding as if it hurt him to keep speaking. “Frieza is afraid a Super Saiyan will arise. If I cannot defeat him myself… he _must_ die at a Saiyan’s hands, Kakarot.”

The words felt like a physical blow. If Vegeta couldn’t defeat him? What was he saying? 

“Vegeta, what—,”

“Listen.” Vegeta repeated, staring at the sink instead of meeting Goku’s eyes. “Kakarot, you must do all that is within your power to bring down Frieza. Promise me.”

“Okay,” the agreement tumbled out of Goku, though he felt he had barely any air to make it, “but Vegeta, it won’t just be me. It’ll be both of us. We’ll beat him together.”

Vegeta turned then, twisting to stand nearly in profile to Goku, tail swishing and drawing Goku’s eyes lower than he thought he should really be looking right now. 

Goku took in Vegeta’s set jaw, the tension lining his frame. The way his gaze was focused somewhere on the wall, though Goku had been expecting that Vegeta would meet his eyes when he turned. 

It felt like Vegeta was trying to hide. That speech had clearly cost him something. 

Goku grabbed a robe from the back of the door, walked towards Vegeta. Vegeta blinked, started slightly, glanced down as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing anything. 

“Here,” Goku wrapped the robe around Vegeta’s shoulders, then hesitated. “Let me take a look at that right arm, get it cleaned up again.”

The arm wasn’t the problem. But at least Goku could do something about it.

* * *

Kakarot wrapped him in a fluffy robe and steered him to his bed as if Vegeta was something fragile.

He hated it. So why wasn’t he protesting?

“There.” Warm hands against his shoulders, easing him down. Vegeta glared, but didn’t push Kakarot away. Gentle hands against his arm, unwrapping the bloodied bandage. 

Kakarot had his priorities all wrong. Never mind the bandage. Could Vegeta really count on him to fight Frieza as if it mattered, or would Kakarot simply treat that too as a game?

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Relief in Kakarot’s voice as he inspected the now bared wound.

Just how many ways must Vegeta expose himself today?

Disbelief thrummed at the back of his head that he was doing so. Rage sat with it. How dare Kakarot give such an apathetic response to the fate of their race, the importance of their people’s pride?

Vegeta snarled, pushed Kakarot away. “I can do it myself.”

“But you don’t have to,” Kakarot responded, all wide earnest eyes, and Vegeta hated the part of himself that wanted to curl into Kakarot’s warmth and simply _rest_ for a moment. His tail lashed his frustration, dislodging the robe, and Vegeta felt heat rise in his face again at the memory of his nakedness. 

How could he have just forgotten that he had nothing on, when Kakarot interrupted him?

Kakarot invited himself to sit on the bed. Vegeta growled. “That’s a bad habit.”

“What?” Confusion creased Kakarot’s brow.

“You.” Vegeta’s tail twitched again. “You’re always just assuming that you’re welcome places.”

Shrugging, Kakarot began winding a fresh bandage around Vegeta’s arm. “I’ll leave you be, once I’m done with this.”

Not a shred of anger in him. Was Kakarot truly capable of becoming a Super Saiyan? Or was he simply too soft, too Earthling, to achieve it?

Kakarot finished wrapping the bandage, sighed, rested his hand against Vegeta’s shoulder for longer than he needed to. Vegeta growled again in warning.

“Vegeta,” Kakarot sounded serious, “do you think he’ll come here?”

No question who they were talking about. Vegeta shuddered, wasn’t able to suppress it. Insultingly, Kakarot smoothed a thumb across Vegeta’s shoulder, rubbing in a motion that was clearly meant to offer comfort.

It wasn’t working, Vegeta insisted to himself.

“Yes, I think he’ll come here. Soon.” Too soon. 

Kakarot grinned, as if relishing a challenge, and Vegeta hated him for it. How Kakarot could still remain untouched, on some level, by the horror that was Frieza.


	22. Last Stand: Charging in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’ve updated the tags and warnings as the plot has firmed up and things have been locked in. There may be a couple more tag updates in the future too.

Goku jolted awake. Pain hazed his senses for a moment, shards in his lung. 

What had woken him?

_Oh._

A ki, massive and somehow dark. It must be a long way off, still. In space.

Large enough to feel from the depths of sleep, so far away. Excitement fizzed under his skin, readiness to test his strength.

They’d been training for so long. He wanted to see the results. 

Except he was _injured_. They both were. 

Goku grinned. Desperate times, desperate measures. If there was ever a time to use the last two senzu beans he’d been hoarding from Earth, it was now. 

The floor was cold under his bare feet as he stood, rummaged through his pack. Found ‘em. 

Vegeta would be cranky, getting woken up in the middle of the night. Goku shrugged, headed for his room anyway, not bothering to get dressed the rest of the way yet. His boxers would do.

He could feel Vegeta’s ki, a reassuring brightness. Lower than it should have been, but still steady. It made Goku feel warm, the tingle of that familiar energy.

Light from the hall spilled in as Goku pushed the door open, outlined Vegeta groaning and throwing an arm over his eyes, then grimacing, jolting himself awake as the motion sparked pain through his wounds. Goku was swept by a sudden urge to bend and kiss Vegeta’s shoulder.

“We’ve got company on the way, Vegeta.” Goku crossed the room, dropped to sit on the edge of the bed again, took in Vegeta’s exasperated expression. “Don’t be like that, I brought something good.”

“What?” Vegeta squinted from where he lay tangled in the sheets, still not fully alert. Goku saw the moment the immense ki registered in Vegeta’s senses, the widened eyes, the stilled breath. “Shit, Kakarot, there’s nothing _good_ about that, especially not while we’re still _injured_ -,”

“Do you think that’s him?” Goku wanted to be sure, before they used up the senzu beans.

“ _Yes,_ I think that’s him,” Vegeta hissed, surging into a sitting position, eyes wild with panic, “stop making that face like it’s a _good thing_.”

Goku tried to contain his excitement, pushing a senzu at Vegeta. “Here, eat this.”

Vegeta squinted at the bean suspiciously. Raised an eyebrow as Goku quickly devoured his own. 

The feeling of senzu healing never got old. Injuries closing instantly, seamlessly, the renewed surge of energy. Goku yanked his bandages off, stretched his arms over his head, delighting in being able to move without pain. Vegeta stared at his bare chest for a moment, and Goku grinned, liking the idea that Vegeta was looking at more than just the magically healed wound. 

Eyes flicking upwards to take in Goku’s smug expression, Vegeta scowled, swallowed his own bean. Goku felt Vegeta’s energy surge, restored, and licked suddenly dry lips. He could almost imagine the ki rolling off Vegeta in waves, warm and tingling, before Vegeta twisted his power back under the tight control they both normally maintained these days. 

“If you had these the whole damn time, Kakarot, why are you only bringing them out _now_ ,” Vegeta growled. 

He was being kind of distracting, sitting there shirtless, ki sparking, intense eyes pinning Goku. 

“Last two,” Goku shrugged, watched Vegeta’s eyes widen again in alarm, “we don’t get any more magic healing after this.”

“Fuck,” Vegeta muttered, glanced skyward where the massive ki approached, “we’re going to wish we still had those later.”

* * *

Vegeta’s posture was tense, curled in. The bright blue of his gi tunic over black leggings looked cheerful and out of place. He was glaring at the wall, refusing to meet Goku’s eyes. Gloved hands clenched against crossed arms, wrapped around himself.

Fear. Goku wasn’t used to seeing it in Vegeta, not like this. Not with how strong and stubborn Vegeta was. 

The approaching ki felt even more massive as it closed on the planet. 

But not unbeatable. If they worked together, Goku was confident they could win. 

Goku grinned, punched Vegeta in his bare shoulder with enough force to rock Vegeta backwards slightly. Enjoyed the brief sensation of skin on skin. Vegeta’s expression turned indignant, but he did finally actually look at Goku.

“Breakfast first, yeah Vegeta? Can’t save the universe on an empty stomach.”

* * *

They stood next to one of the planet’s oceans, waves lapping roughly at the surrounding rock. The air was faintly salty. A tiny cluster of ki hovered nearby, far above the planet, probably Frieza’s ship.

Goku wasn’t really interested in the ship right now.

“Oh my, how gracious,” a cruel smile, dark lips, “really, there was no need for you to come out here to welcome me.”

Frieza was shorter than Goku had expected. Small, pink and purple, horns sticking out from his head. From his vantage just behind Vegeta’s shoulder, Goku watched Vegeta’s fists clench, arms held stiffly at his sides. Even with those clenched fists, Goku thought he detected a slight shaking in Vegeta’s limbs.

“Oh, but of course we had to,” when Vegeta spoke, it was a confident drawl. Goku could imagine the smirk spreading across Vegeta’s face, cocky and confident. “You came all this way to greet us, after all.”

Frieza’s expression turned ugly, tail lashing and splitting the ground. “You filthy monkeys. Do you have any idea how much inconvenience you’ve caused me?”

_Inconvenience?_ Was that all that these months had amounted to in the end? Goku tensed, slid his feet farther apart, bracing. 

Frieza’s ki was impressive, but they could take him. They’d both come a hell of a long way since Vegeta first got to Earth.

In front of Goku, Vegeta slid into his own fighting stance, all shaking stilled into focus. 

There was a spiking ripple in Frieza’s ki. 

What?

Goku braced himself in his own fighting stance in earnest now, staring. Was Frieza also able to lower and raise his ki at will?

Just how much higher could he go?

* * *

“My name is Nail,” apparently-not-Piccolo told her, “and yes, this is Planet Namek.”

“So… are we good here?” Raditz wasn’t bracing to fight anymore, but he didn’t look relaxed, either. He was still shielding Bulma from the new arrival.

Nail blinked, looking serene in a way that was completely unlike Piccolo. “If you do not intend to harm my people then we are, as you say, ‘good’.”

“Yep, right, great,” Raditz clapped his hands together, sounding slightly manic to Bulma’s ears, “we’re definitely not planning to do that so, no reason at all we can’t get along.”

The Namekian looked puzzled at this. “Indeed.”

Bulma was a little confused herself. Why was Raditz quite so on edge? Was this new guy strong or something?

Or maybe being stuck on a planet with nothing at all to work with was starting to get to him.

Bulma stuck her head around Raditz, waved at the Namekian. Nail. “Hey, so uh, do you have any spare spaceships?”

Raditz and the Namekian both jumped, and Bulma wondered if it had been her question, until she realized they were both staring at the same point to the side.

“ _Krillin!_ ” That was her yelling, she realized, as she sprinted over to the small group that had landed. The small _bleeding_ group that had landed. All three of them looked awful, but Krillin looked the worst, completely limp where he lay in Nappa’s surprisingly gentle hold. 

ChiChi caught her shoulder, squeezed. She must have run over too, though Bulma hadn’t seen from where. 

A glance at the other woman’s face told Bulma that this was probably more than ChiChi could fix, with the medical bay in shreds. No power. Half the supplies burned or broken.

Kami, no. 

“Forget the spaceship,” Bulma turned, stared at Nail, desperate, “do you have a hospital or something on this planet?”

* * *

Frieza was _growing_.

Just a little, at first. A small size increase, enough that Frieza’s armor cracked away. A jump in ki. Vegeta snorted. “Was that supposed to _impress_ us?”

Then Frieza’s ki exploded, size doubling, tripling, and Goku had a moment to wonder if he’d been too eager to start this fight.

But no, there it was, leveling off. High but far from impossible. Goku grinned. This was going to be a fun challenge.

Next to him, Vegeta roared and charged forward, unleashing a swinging kick that connected solidly with Frieza’s face, plummeting him into a nearby mountain. 

“Hey—,” Goku started to protest at Vegeta having all the fun, but Vegeta wasn’t listening, already charging after Frieza and unleashing a volley of ki blasts at Frieza’s landing point.

Frieza exploded from the cloud of dust, face twisted in fury. He hurled a ki blast that Vegeta dodged easily. Goku grinned as Vegeta spun forward to land another kick in Frieza’s gut, followed by a barrage of punches that had Frieza doubled over coughing.

“You… filthy…,” Frieza’s eyes were bloodshot with rage, face twisted to expose teeth. 

Vegeta twisted in a graceful arc to land another kick to Frieza’s jaw, smirk giving way to a manic grin. 

A little concerning, that grin.

Frieza connected with the ground again. Immediately regained his feet.

Noticed he was bleeding, a trickle from his nose, and wasn’t it just a little concerning that he didn’t have more damage after Vegeta’s rush of attacks?

“ENOUGH!” Frieza’s shape was changing again, bulging, twisting, ki shooting higher still. Goku grit his teeth, braced. Vegeta flinched back, jumping away from Frieza to stand shoulder to shoulder with Goku again. Goku spared a glance to his friend. Took a moment to worry that Vegeta was sweating too much, breathing too hard. 

That slight shaking was back, and Goku hated seeing it.

“Now then,” Frieza’s voice was changing now too, taking on a strange echo, “I will make you _regret_ this rash of bad decisions, Vegeta.”

Vegeta bared his teeth, sank deeper into his crouch. His tail bristled, squeezing even tighter around his waist. A vulnerability that he was keeping wrapped close. 

“The only thing I _regret_ , Frieza, is that I ever took orders from you in the first place!”

Goku smiled, ridiculously proud that Vegeta had found the time to spit that out.

* * *

Krillin gasped, jolted upright. 

“Oh thank Kami!” Bulma lunged forward to wrap him in a hug, drawing a yelp. 

“He should be fine now,” the little Namekian healer said, eyes round. He was adorable. Had Piccolo looked that adorable when he was small?

Though that healing ability was nothing to sneeze at. Bulma sat back on her heels, wondered if they could recruit him. The healer had moved on to help Gohan now, brow scrunched in concentration.

The Saiyans would certainly be thrilled with having a way to heal near-instantly. Though there was the risk it would make them even more stupidly reckless than they already were.

Nappa grunted suspiciously when it was his turn to be healed, but sat down anyway as instructed. 

That had been a surprise, hearing about the fight from Gohan. The Saiyans were allies alright, but Bulma honestly hadn’t expected Nappa to take damage for Krillin’s sake. He’d been the most grudging of the three, especially after that mess on Calyptus. 

He was glaring at her now as if he could read her thoughts and didn’t like them. Bulma turned away, smiled at ChiChi wrapping Gohan firmly in a hug. 

“Thanks again,” Bulma said to Nail, who nodded seriously, “honestly, I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Shown up ready to help. 

“It is the Great Elder you should thank,” Nail said, pronouncing the title with reverence, “it is he who sent me to offer aid. If I had been faster, I could have helped your friends in their fight.”

Huh. Maybe they should go and meet this Great Elder guy. Did he have some kind of information network going?

Bulma would give her right arm just now to have communications restored. It was killing her to have no way to contact Goku back on Kaneks. 

She just hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble.

* * *

Frieza’s new form was nothing like his first two. Elongated head, wide lips, spikes from everywhere. His nose had vanished. He laughed, thrashed his tail, and Goku felt that his power had lept yet again. 

Still manageable. Still a challenging fight that they could win. 

“How many more of those does he _have_.” Vegeta’s voice sounded strangled, the furious question forced from a tight throat. Goku watched Vegeta bare his teeth in a snarl, hands tightly fisted, none of his usual smug confidence. 

Frieza vaulted to land just in front of them. “Time for me to remind you of your place, Vegeta.”

It was as if a switch flipped. Vegeta’s smirk was back, more a sneer, distorting his face too far. “All you’ll remind me of, Frieza, is how superior we Saiyans are on the battlefield.” 

Vegeta launched himself at Frieza again, laugh manic, that borderline insane edge that Goku hadn’t heard in a while. 

Frieza was laughing too, kept laughing even as Vegeta landed a punishing series of blows, a scorching flurry of ki blasts. “Oh Vegeta, you have no idea how big a mistake you’ve made.”

Something was wrong. Frieza was too confident, still. 

Was he holding onto yet another transformation? 

Vegeta’s boot landed on Frieza’s face. Frieza raised a spiked arm, smashed it into Vegeta’s stomach, cratering him into the ground. 

Sloppy. Vegeta should have been able to avoid that. 

Snarling, Vegeta shot upwards again, a frantic trail of energy. Frieza followed, unnerving flat teeth bared in a grin.

“Come back and play, Vegeta, weren’t you going to show me how strong you little monkeys could be?”

Vegeta yelled and shot another volley of ki blasts into Frieza’s face. Too slow, Frieza dodged a good handful of them. It was a bad sign that Vegeta was burning through his energy this fast. Far too fast. 

Goku stood tense. Should he step in now? But Vegeta wasn’t really in trouble, not yet, and he’d probably never forgive Goku for interrupting. 

This fight was clearly something Vegeta needed, even though he wasn’t _himself_ somehow, during it. 

“Go to hell!” Vegeta roared, landing a series of punches on Frieza that knocked him back just long enough for Vegeta to charge and unleash a Galic Gun blast, purple light rendering Frieza momentarily invisible. 

“You…” Frieza’s hiss was furious. He was bleeding more now. Vegeta laughed, head thrown back, unhinged. 

“Was this what you feared, Frieza?” Vegeta’s tone was taunting, “was this what you were _afraid_ a Saiyan would be able to do to you someday?”

Frieza’s laugh started slow and quiet, building from a chuckle to a full roar. “Poor Vegeta, you still don’t understand, do you?” An abrupt shift, Frieza’s chin lowered and a sneer plastered across his face. “Here, let me show you.”

So he really did have another transformation. Goku narrowed his eyes. Just how big was Frieza going to end up this time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, another slightly early update - back to usual next week!


	23. Last Stand: Nothing Left

Vegeta braced himself, teeth bared, waiting for Frieza’s latest transformation to end. 

Kakarot looked calm next to him, only his brow slightly furrowed. None of the nervous energy vibrating through Vegeta’s limbs.

Frieza. He’d kept them pinned under his pointy feet for so long. An always-looming threat.

Losing was not an option.

Losing meant death.

Fuck, if only they’d had more time.

There was a sharp cracking sound, and the light around Frieza flared before abruptly fading. 

Vegeta threw back his head laughing, relief sweeping through him. “ _That’s_ your ultimate form?”

Frieza was tiny again, no longer reaching even Vegeta’s own height. A far cry from the towering monster forms they’d faced moments before. 

A smirk, a curve of dark purple lips, red eyes glinting. Frieza raised a hand, finger pointed. 

Kakarot and Vegeta sprung clear. The focused beam of light pierced the space Vegeta had occupied moments before, shooting through a distant mountain. 

Dangerous. The small form was deceptive, Vegeta sensed the ki now, immense on a level far beyond the earlier shapes. 

Panic threatened to close his throat, freeze his lungs. 

Screaming defiance, Vegeta flared his ki, dove towards Frieza readying a kick. That sneer again, terrifyingly close, before Frieza simply vanished, dodging too quickly for Vegeta to track.

Motion behind him, a flash of orange. Vegeta spun, completing the momentum from his attack, to find Kakarot had caught Frieza’s wrist. Ki burned past Vegeta’s head, a redirected blast that vaporized a swathe of topography behind him. 

“ _You,_ ” Frieza twisted free, jumped back, creating distance, mouth pursed in distaste, “hands off, lesser monkey.”

Kakarot dropped into a fighting stance next to Vegeta. “Let’s hit him together.”

Such confidence. It soothed something in Vegeta, and he hated Kakarot for that. Growling, he took his own stance next to the orange clown. “I don’t need you to tell me how to fight.”

“Oh, my,” Frieza smirked, tone oozing false sympathy, “trouble with your subordinates, Vegeta? Perhaps I could give you some pointers.”

Vegeta snarled and lunged, aiming another kick. Kakarot moved at his shoulder, a reassuring orange blur. Frieza dodged Vegeta’s kick, laughing.

The laughter abruptly cut off as Kakarot’s fist found home, connecting with Frieza’s gut to slam him backwards. 

“You,” Frieza’s expression turned ugly again, “that almost tickled.”

Kakarot’s power had burst upwards with that punch, one of those flares of ki and speed that Vegeta had watched him train in the gravity room these past myria. 

“Well,” Kakarot’s smirk turned sharp, canines appearing, “guess I’ll have to turn it up a notch for the next round.”

“Oh?” Frieza tipped his head, curved his tail, curious at this new toy. “Well aren’t you a funny one.”

Vegeta had a brief, gratifying view of Frieza’s eyes widening in shock as Kakarot yelled and flared his power even higher. More of that technique that he’d been practicing. 

Just how little of it had Vegeta truly seen until now?

Kakarot lunged, faster than Vegeta could properly track. Then he was sailing through the air, struck by Frieza’s kick, to plummet into a nearby lake. 

Red eyes in front of him, too close. Vegeta flinched, jerked back, wasn’t fast enough to avoid Frieza’s punch to his stomach, the follow up smack of Frieza’s tail connecting with Vegeta’s chin, sending him through the air like a rag doll, dazed.

Frieza caught him, tail wrapped about Vegeta’s throat, and Vegeta panicked, thrashing for air. 

“Well, Vegeta,” Frieza smirked, cruel and satisfied, “you put up a better fight than I thought. But you’ve hit your limit, hmmm?”

Vegeta growled through the hold on his throat, lashed out in panic with his tail, unthinking instinct. Frieza caught it and squeezed, hard enough to snap the delicate bones. 

Pure agony. Vegeta used up the rest of his air in a pointless scream. 

A disc of energy scissored past, slicing Frieza’s tail. The ground rushed towards Vegeta as Frieza howled in fury. 

“ _You_ ,” this was a level of fury that Vegeta had never heard from Frieza, doubted anyone had heard and lived to tell of, “when I find you, you orange—,”

The surface of the lake rushed up, but something was off, Vegeta didn’t sense Kakarot there. 

Frieza spun to lash out, but what burst from the water wasn’t Kakarot. Frieza dodged the sphere of ki, face gratifyingly confused, and then fell once again for the same trick with a second sphere. Vegeta laughed as Kakarot lunged from Frieza’s blind spot, dropping both feet into Frieza’s head to slam him into the ground, buried in rubble.

Fuck, but laughing hurt. Jarred his injured abdomen, sent agonizing shocks through his broken tail. 

Maybe he should have worn his old armor after all, instead of these flimsy Earth garments. 

_Vegeta stood, swatched in blue, holding the armor’s breastplate. Comfort and agony bound into one, a memory of subservience that had fit far too easily._

_He set the breastplate back, peeled off the blue._

_Kept his gloves. Wrapped his tail around his waist over his still-strange Earthling tunic._

Kakarot touched down lightly next to him, looked at Vegeta and flinched in shock at what must have been rather visible damage. 

“Take a breather, Vegeta,” Kakarot slid into his fighting stance again, not even looking winded, intent on the spot where Frieza had landed. “I got this.”

Vegeta growled, dragged himself upright, tail hanging limp. “Fuck you, Kakarot.” 

“You should listen to him, Vegeta,” Frieza stood from the rubble, brushing specks of dust off his shoulder. 

Barely a scratch. What would it take to damage the bastard in this form? 

Although there was his tail, shortened now where Kakarot had sliced Vegeta free. 

Yet another rescue. It burned. How had Kakarot come so far, left Vegeta trailing behind like this? The gap was far greater than Vegeta had realized. It was agony on par with his broken tail, but also a balm.

Maybe Kakarot could really do it. Maybe he truly could destroy Frieza with this impossible strength. 

“Well, then,” Frieza finished his show of brushing dust off, smirked, “I suppose I’ve played with you long enough. Time to get serious.”

Serious? Had he not been serious before? This crushing power, movements faster than Vegeta could track. That had been Frieza _before_ he decided to get serious? 

“Yeah,” Kakarot said calmly, also smirking, “me too.”

Vegeta was torn between wanting to shake him by the shoulders and scream about lying traitors, and hoping like hell that Kakarot could actually pull off another power increase. 

Frieza laughed. “Well, now. You’re not a lesser monkey at all, are you? Do tell me your name, I’ll be sure to put it on your tombstone.”

“I won’t be needing a tombstone,” Kakarot told him, still with that unbelievable calm, “but you can call me Son Goku.”

Of fucking course. The bastard _would_ give his Earthling name.

* * *

The ‘great’ part of the Great Elder’s name must refer to his size. Raditz frowned over Bulma’s shoulder at the huge green man, listening as she tumbled through her explanation.

No ship. No communications. No way to know what was happening with the rest of their allies, just the fear of a trap.

It was an effort to keep the fur on his tail from bristling with unease. Only two Ginyu here. Had the rest gone to Kaneks? Were Kakarot and Vegeta okay?

How close was Frieza?

“I see,” said the Great Elder, though Raditz wondered if he really did. “But I am afraid we do not have any of this technology that you speak of.”

Bulma visibly wilted. “But… but they’re so close.”

It sure did sting. Cala’s ship must be near Namek by now. If only they could get communications to them, or to Kaneks, they wouldn’t be stranded. 

There just wasn’t anything to work with here.

“Wait, if you don’t have any kind of communications or surveillance equipment, how did you know about the Ginyu force attacking? And how do you keep communicating with each other long distance?”

Raditz thought Bulma had asked a damn good question.

“We communicate via telepathy,” Nail offered, and Raditz was still thrown by how calm he was in contrast to Piccolo, also his ki was _really_ fucking strong, “and the Great Elder’s magic allows him to see events anywhere on the planet.”

“Telepathy…,” Bulma tapped a finger against her lips as she thought, the gesture reminding Raditz of some of Vegeta’s unconscious habits, “how far can you reach, with telepathy?”

“A great ways, to communicate with another Namekian. I fear it would not work so well with other peoples.” 

“Could you reach a Namekian on another planet?” Bulma and Raditz asked simultaneously.

* * *

Frieza released more energy. Vegeta felt it as an increase in pressure, the air already crackling and overloaded with power from the fight. 

Would the planet hold through this?

The smile curving Frieza’s face was terrifying, sending ice spiking down Vegeta’s spine. That predatory look.

_”It won’t happen again, Lord Frieza,” Vegeta kneeled in a bow, hand to heart, head lowered, other fist to the floor._

_“See that it doesn’t,” there was danger in that tone, several shades of irritation deeper than Vegeta had previously heard directed at himself._

_He’d heard it before though. Usually directed at people who didn’t live much longer._

_“Oh, and Vegeta?” The tone was a question. Vegeta risked looking up to learn the expression that went with it. Frieza’s smile was calculating, a cat toying with a mouse, “the next time one of your subordinates makes a mess, I will expect you to clean them up. Personally.”_

_Not it. Them. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Raditz, where he and Nappa kneeled at Vegeta’s back._

_Vegeta lowered his head again, heart thudding panic as he forced his tone to stay level. “Yes, my Lord.”_

Frieza kicked a boulder at them, and Vegeta had a moment to wonder what the hell game this was, before the boulder shattered into violently speeding fragments. 

It seemed the rumors of Frieza’s telekinesis were well founded. 

Vegeta darted back, clear of the rocks. Kakarot was trying to plunge forward to where Frieza had stood, a blur of orange amid the rubble. 

White and purple, moving too fast. Frieza, streaking around the rubble to blindside Kakarot as he finally emerged from the mess.

“Sh—,” Kakarot’s curse was cut-off as Frieza enveloped him in a ball of light. 

_”And now you go boom,” Frieza said, sounding bored, and Vegeta’s breath stilled in horrified awe as Glunper plummeted screaming into the ground, the ball of light exploding like a bomb around him._

_A smirk, a glance sideways to where Vegeta stood. “Would you like me to teach you, Vegeta? Dealing with traitors needn’t be boring, after all.”_

“Careful,” Frieza taunted Kakarot, “you might really die this time.”

_Fuck._ Vegeta flung a ball of ki, carefully counterbalanced, intercepting the energy trapping Kakarot as it plummeted downwards. 

Frieza’s trap popped like a soap-bubble, light flaring harmlessly outwards instead of exploding inwards towards Kakarot, the balance of the technique thoroughly disrupted. 

Agony in Vegeta’s back, kidneys. Frieza’s knee slamming into him over and over, Frieza’s hand twisted through his hair to keep him upright.

“Ungrateful wretch,” another kick, another, evenly spaced intervals as if this were merely something routine. Vegeta coughed, breath forced from him with each blow, tasted blood. “I share my toys with you, Vegeta, and _this_ is how you repay me?”

“Frieza!” There was real fury in Kakarot’s voice, a level Vegeta couldn’t remember hearing before. “I’m your opponent now! Let him go!” 

That idiot. Didn’t he know better by now, than to let Frieza see where his weaknesses lay?

The logical following thought, that Vegeta himself was now a weakness, dripped like icy water, numbing him. The agony in his body was becoming distant, retreating, his limbs hanging limp. 

He was nothing, to Frieza. Nothing in this battle but a liability. 

Frieza stopped his punches to laugh uproariously. Vegeta could picture it, Frieza’s free hand curled delicately to his mouth, as if stifling an unladylike outburst of laughter over a cup of tea as Bulma and ChiChi sometimes did.

“Son Goku, wasn’t it? Really, I’m being far too generous towards you.” Frieza must have turned, Vegeta was facing Kakarot now, not looking to the side as he had been before. “Here you go, then, let me return this to you.”

Ki exploded against Vegeta’s back, disintegrating most of the Earth tunic. He heard Kakarot yell, recognized the familiar scent, warmth. The blast had flung him forward into Kakarot’s arms. 

The world tipped again, movement and pain and the sound of impact, the sound of grinding rock. Kakarot grunted, tightened his arms around Vegeta in an agonizing vice as they slid to a halt.

“Get up,” Vegeta hissed into Kakarot’s neck, voice coming out in a wheeze, “get up and fight, damn you.”

Kakarot growled, already moving, spinning to impossibly block a kick, a punch, a blast from Frieza. 

Vegeta coughed, pushed himself up on his elbows enough to watch. Kakarot’s outer orange shirt was shredded now, but other than that he looked fresh still. Grim, determined, not afraid in the least. Matching Frieza blow for blow.

How was he doing that?

“Hm,” Frieza paused, smiled that dangerous smile again, “you’re good, I’ll give you that. Let me extend the offer just in case. Care to join me?”

Ice in Vegeta’s lungs, sheer horror. No. Not Kakarot. Frieza had his time to toy with the rest of them, use them. He couldn’t have Kakarot too, the last Saiyan untouched by his games. It would be unbearable. 

“No way,” Kakarot crouched deeper into his fighting stance, eyes narrowed.

“Oh well,” Frieza shrugged, smirked, “I didn’t expect you to be smart enough to take the offer in any case. You Saiyans can be so stubborn.”

There was a howl building in Vegeta’s throat, pure fury trying to escape. 

“I know you’re holding a great deal of power in reserve,” Frieza continued, eyes still focused on Kakarot. _More?_ Vegeta had a moment to wonder, disbelieving. “Even so, I estimate that I’ll be able to turn you into cosmic dust using just _half_ my power.”

“Hah.” Kakarot took the pause in the fight for what it was, straightened to pull off the shreds of the orange layer of his gi shirt. “That’s a little much, even for you. You’re a good bluffer, though.”

_He’s not bluffing._ The thought screamed through Vegeta’s mind, absolute certainty. 

“It was fun while it lasted,” Frieza said, sweeping his hands open, eyes calculating. Power poured off him in waves, the pressure somehow increasing even further.

Done playing games, and ready to clean up the trash.

Vegeta saw Kakarot’s breath catch, eyes widening, as he had his own realization that Frieza really hadn’t been bluffing. 

Really had that much power. 

Frieza’s motion was too fast for Vegeta to track again, but he saw the effect, Kakarot reeling backwards, bleeding, off balance. Saw real desperation cross Kakarot’s face for the first time as he staggered back upright, failed to dodge Frieza’s follow-up kick. 

It hurt, watching Kakarot fall, knocked to the ground by Frieza’s blow, clutching his stomach in agony. Something twisted and ached in Vegeta’s chest as Kakarot tried to recover in his fall, spinning with a kick that Frieza only dodged, landing another kick to Kakarot’s ribs.

Vegeta had imagined, for a brief moment, that they had a chance. That surely one of them had achieved the strength they needed. That perhaps even one of them had become a Super Saiyan, the one thing Frieza feared.

Kakarot coughed, pushed himself back to his feet, reeling, and Frieza merely chuckled. “I’m impressed you’re not dead yet.”

It was over. They weren’t dead yet, but in moments they surely would be. Vegeta shuddered. The battlefield blurred in his vision. 

Frieza had simply been too much for them. 

Kakarot still stood defiant, panting, glaring. Refusing to give up. 

Energy split the ground, just barely missing Kakarot. Vegeta saw the shock on Kakarot’s face, how the true extent of Frieza’s power hit home once again.

Desperation. Even Kakarot had nothing more up his sleeve. Frieza smirked, closed in for the kill.

Kakarot screamed, his energy shooting impossibly higher, red ki enveloping him. He lunged, landed a punch to Frieza’s jaw that sent Frieza flying, followed it up with a Kamehameha.

Frieza blocked it, one-handed. But he looked mad.

He looked _hurt._ Even in this form, even with his energy raised. 

To half his power. They still had no chance.

Kakarot’s ki was plummeting again now. His breath came in pants, and Vegeta thought his limbs looked heavier. 

The same attack he had burned himself out with against Dodoria. Overshooting his limits. 

A failed gamble this time. Frieza was far from finished. 

Kakarot darted backwards, landed next to Vegeta. “Can you still fight?”

Up close, the damage to Kakarot was even more visible. He’d taken a beating. Vegeta was distantly impressed once again at the man’s endurance.

“Fight against _that_?” Perhaps Vegeta should be flattered. 

“Just for a minute or so.” Kakarot raised his hands over his head in a bizarre stance, palms spread to the sky. “There’s one more attack I can try, but it takes a lot of time to charge.”

Vegeta looked up. Light gathering, a dense ball. 

Oh.

“You really think it’ll work?” Vegeta assessed his own ki reserves. Drained to dregs, but he had just barely enough left. The false moon would be short lived. 

Perhaps only a minute or so.

“Well,” Kakarot grinned, bloody, desperate, beautiful, “if this doesn’t work, I’m all out of ideas.”

Well. No one would be able to say they hadn’t gone down fighting. Vegeta felt inexplicably calm as he pushed himself to his feet next to Kakarot. 

“Seems a waste of last words.” Frieza was watching them with folded arms, a bored expression. “You’ll both be dead in a moment, after all.”

Had Frieza not noticed the ki that Kakarot was gathering? It didn’t seem that he had, narrowed eyes still focused on where they stood, no attention to the sky. 

A shift in Frieza’s stance, a twitch to his expression.

He’d grown tired of waiting.

“We wouldn’t want to bore you, Frieza,” Vegeta darted forward, drawing Frieza’s red gaze to himself, away from Kakarot, “I think I have just the thing to keep it interesting for you.”

“You, Vegeta?” Frieza laughed, cutting, “you ceased to be interesting a long time ago.”

An insult that landed as a relief. Being interesting to Frieza had never been a good thing.

Vegeta smirked, gathered a small ball of carefully calibrated energy, and launched it to the sky, as far as he could from Kakarot’s gathering attack. “Burst and mix!”

The change was agonizing. Risky. Frieza could attack midway through. Vegeta was betting that he wouldn’t. 

That cold laugh. “How thoughtful, Vegeta. Really, it will be far more satisfying to dispatch you looking like the monkey you are.”

Vegeta’s throat rumbled in a growl, both typical of the transformation and reaction to Frieza’s tired insults. 

“Are you finished?” Frieza tapped his manicured nail against his arm, “perhaps I should begin counting.”

It was, barely, finished. Vegeta stretched his mouth wide, spitting a ki blast at Frieza.

Neither one of them had expected it to hit. 

“You!” Frieza was furious, staring at the deepened wound on his right arm. The arm he’d used to block Kakarot’s last attack. “That,” absolute fury, in those red eyes, teeth exposed, far from the usual sneering decorum, “that _hurt_ , you blasted monkey!”

Oozaru transformation increased strength ten-fold. Vegeta had known that, but hadn’t truly expected the difference to shake Frieza.

No. He’d already been shaken. Though the damage was minimal, Kakarot _had_ dealt some. Probably more than Frieza had ever experienced in his life, in that form of his. 

Frieza’’s foot crashed into Vegeta’s shoulder. The fucking left shoulder again. Vegeta roared in pain, the sound huge in Oozaru form, and staggered, not managing to avoid Frieza’s flurry of follow up punches to his chest. 

It _hurt_. But it was a very localized hurt, Frieza’s fists small against the bulk of an Oozaru. 

How much time had passed? Was it close to a minute?

“Enough of this!” Frieza sprung back, gaining distance from Vegeta, raised his finger to the sky and gathered a black void of an energy ball, sparking bloody red. 

Vegeta’s fur fluffed, every instinct screaming at him to get clear of that black sphere.

Frieza snarled, flung the energy ball. Above him, a much larger, brilliant white sphere of energy began crashing downwards. 

Vegeta dove to the side. He wouldn’t make it in time. The black sphere was moving too fast. 

Agony took hold, splintering. Was this Frieza’s attack?

Screaming, Frieza’s voice. It sounded as if he was yelling denial. The world was strangely white, far too bright, as if the sun were falling on him. The ground was getting closer and farther away at the same time, Vegeta’s outstretched hand seeming to shrink in front of his eyes.

Kakarot’s hand was suddenly warm around Vegeta’s wrist, pulling urgently. 

The sun landed, just behind them, cratering the planet, ocean rushing in. A wash of heat hit Vegeta’s back from the energy, even as water crashed into his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this battle, and Goku’s dialogue with Frieza, is leaning heavily on the manga (also I just love the bit with the water)  
> If you haven’t read the manga, it’s so fun! The pacing of the battles is much sharper, and Goku has some amazing lines. 
> 
> Also: surprise! I’ve been able to get a lot more writing done lately than I anticipated, enough that I’m now planning to post updates twice a week! Tags and chapter count also updated.


	24. Last Stand: To Lose

Goku broke the water gasping, struggling to keep numb fingers wrapped around Vegeta’s wrist. It took far more effort than it should have to hook his elbow over rock, heave himself clear of the water, pull Vegeta up after him. 

Vegeta coughed reflexively, slumping to the ground next to Goku. Tension eased in Goku’s chest, relief that Vegeta still had enough awareness to clench his fingers against the rock, keeping himself anchored.

Everything ached. Goku dragged himself painfully the rest of the way onto the tiny island, arm over arm. Rolled sideways and groaned. Another cough sounded from Vegeta, a splash, and Goku opened his eyes to see Vegeta twist and flop onto the island unassisted. His broken tail hung at an awkward angle, looking painful. Scrapes and blooming bruises littered his torso, bare after his transformation.

He was really something else. Vegeta’s toughness never ceased to amaze Goku, the way he could just get up again and again and keep going.

Goku did that himself of course, but before Vegeta he’d never met anyone else who could.

Another cough from Vegeta, then a groan of pain. “Did you get him?”

“Yeah, _we_ got him.” Hell if Goku was going to take sole credit for that one. 

Vegeta blinked, meeting Goku’s eyes with a confused expression. Goku gave him a smile that was probably a bit wonky. 

“You— we— _really_ got him?” Vegeta was pushing himself up into a sitting position, sounding disbelieving. Eyes impossibly hopeful. 

“Hit ‘im dead on,” Goku confirmed, smile widening. 

Frieza had really been terrifying. Even after all their training, they’d only barely managed to scrape by.

It made a little more sense to Goku now, how Frieza had managed to keep the other three Saiyans in line with fear. Something that had seemed impossible when Goku first met Vegeta, when he couldn’t imagine Vegeta truly fearing anyone or anything.

Vegeta started to laugh. He sounded exhausted, leaning over and holding his ribs. Goku pushed himself closer, reached out, gripped Vegeta’s shoulders to raise him back up.

“It’s,” Vegeta’s voice was raw, cracking, “he’s finally—,”

“Yeah,” Goku agreed, rubbing his thumb in a circle against Vegeta’s bare shoulder. 

Vegeta looked up to meet his eyes, so close their noses nearly touched, and Goku was stunned to see the sheen of building tears. 

“I didn’t think we could do it,” Vegeta whispered, one of the tears spilling over. Goku reached to catch it with his thumb. “I never thought we’d actually manage to be _free_ of him.”

Oh. Goku framed Vegeta’s face with his hands, leaned their foreheads together. He could feel Vegeta shaking, hear him fighting to even out his hitching breath. 

What an awful feeling it must have been. To look forward and see only a cage.

“Let’s go home,” Goku murmured, shifting enough to graze his lips against Vegeta’s forehead. 

The Capsule Home first, but then Earth. They could go back, finally, not worrying about any more PTO showing up. He could go back to Mt Paozu, Gohan could finally focus on the studies he loved instead of worrying about training.

Maybe Vegeta would like Mt Paozu. Goku didn’t think he’d seen much of Earth the first time, apart from where they fought and then the area near Capsule Corp. He had a sudden image of the river near his home, sitting next to it with Vegeta, tired from a spar maybe, doing nothing, just relaxing, just watching the water. 

And they could spar. Goku’s heart sang at the thought, the hope that Vegeta might _stay_. Piccolo had been a good sparring partner at first, but Goku had long ago pulled ahead.

Vegeta would stay, right? Goku could no longer imagine what life would look like without him. Without that smirk, without the ever present challenge. 

“I’m still mad at you,” Vegeta pulled back, squinted at him, apparently objecting to Goku’s affection. 

“I’ll just have to work on that, then,” Goku smiled, let his hands slide from Vegeta’s shoulders as Vegeta braced himself and wobbled to his feet. “After we get back to Earth. You’re coming right?”

Kami, but he hoped Vegeta would be coming. Goku pushed himself shakily to his own feet, legs reluctant to hold, and wished he’d had an excuse to hold on to Vegeta just a little longer before Vegeta reclaimed these few feet of distance between them.

“Well,” Vegeta shrugged, fighting back a wince, “I suppose—,”

Whatever Vegeta had been about to say ended in a cough, a spray of red. 

Time slowed. Vegeta’s eyes wide, disbelieving. The trail of light that had pierced his chest, pierced his _heart_ gradually fading. Impossibly slow, Vegeta buckling, folding to the ground, blood spilling against his bare skin.

He stayed where he fell, horribly still. 

“And there we have the only way to deal with insubordination.”

The voice was familiar, but impossible. Goku turned, slowly, to where the light beam had come from. Numbly took in the red eyes, the sneer, light glinting purple off a smooth head. 

Frieza. 

_Vegeta, bare, dark eyes intense, “If I cannot defeat him myself… he_ must _die at a Saiyan’s hands, Kakarot.”_

_“Vegeta, it won’t just be me. It’ll be both of us. We’ll beat him together.”_

Vegeta lay still on the ground, the spark of his ki extinguished.

Goku threw his head back and _screamed_.

_“Frieza destroyed our planet, then he_ used _us. Tools in his army.”_

_“I never thought we’d actually manage to be _free_ of him.”_

“You—,” Goku stared at Frieza, snarled, learned what the phrase ‘saw red’ meant, felt his voice scrape raw against his throat, “I _won’t_ let you get away with this!”

The world seemed to flash brightly around him. Energy pouring in, burning, _raw_ , fury bubbling viscerally through Goku’s chest, his rage fueling him.

_“Frieza has been grinding the Saiyan people into the dirt since he first set foot on our planet, and he has to_ pay _.”_

Frieza’s eyes widened, alarm. 

Goku registered that the light surrounding him was real, not a figment of his imagination. 

Understood a second later that the furious energy bubbling through him was genuine, overwhelming power. 

Understood in the next second that he could _destroy_ Frieza with the strength he now felt running through his veins.

“I’m going to make you _pay_ for that, Frieza!”

_“You might be able to do it, Kakarot. Your power makes no sense. Maybe you_ can _manage to become a Super Saiyan.”_

This must be it. Super Saiyan. The pure, burning rage, the feeling of riding a power he could barely control, a brilliant strength that threatened to swallow him. 

Goku lunged, mind white with anger, to plant his fist in Frieza’s face. 

The effect was spectacular. Frieza staggered back several steps, gasping. Fell into the water. 

Exploded upwards in fury seconds later. “Impossible! Saiyans aren’t capable of gaining such power!”

Goku smirked. “Guess you were wrong about that one.” 

A beam of light aimed at him, the same kind that had struck Vegeta. Goku dodged easily. More beams followed, striping the air, all of them missing. Frieza’s attacks were far too slow the catch Goku with this new speed.

Super Saiyan, huh.

_“You can’t deny your heritage, Kakarot.”_

“How!” Frieza was losing his cool in a big way, face twisting in panicked rage. “That attack never misses!”

Goku showed his teeth in a sharp grin. “I guess you can’t say that anymore.” 

The rage was still bubbling. He wanted to _hurt_ this enemy. 

“You filthy monkey!” 

Looking down on him because he was Saiyan. Goku was tired of it.

“Hit me, then.” It wouldn’t hurt Goku. But it would sure as hell hurt Frieza, to see how little he could do.

“ _What?_ ”

“Hit me,” Goku repeated, tipping his chin back, deliberately showing an opening.

Frieza lashed out, the beam of light hitting Goku square on the jaw. It stung, drew blood. 

Nothing more. 

Goku tipped his head upright, a slow display. Smirked. “So the monster who can destroy a planet can’t even destroy one little man.”

That furious energy was still bubbling. Goku had power to spare. Far beyond Frieza.

Frieza screamed and charged him, raining punches, kicks. Goku blocked them all. It was easy. It was _satisfying_ , seeing Frieza’s rage and panic grow, building as he realized just how far outmatched he was.

Good. Goku wanted him to feel panic. He wanted him to feel _fear_. 

Let Frieza be the one to learn the taste of being backed into a corner for a change. 

“I guess you’re not as good as you thought, Frieza. You’re going to lose this fight, and it’ll be to just one Saiyan.”

“Damn you!” Frieza’s form bulged. He was drawing forth more power. 

Was he still not at 100%? That was alright. Goku could wait.

His victory would be sweeter if his opponent was at full strength. Frieza wouldn’t have any excuses for losing. 

“It’s _over!_ ” Discs of energy spun towards Goku. Slow, easy to dodge. 

Goku smirked, leaned casually against the wall rock he’d landed next to. “Yeah, over _here_.”

Frieza snarled, and Goku felt a vicious satisfaction at landing yet another insult. Another insult that visibly hurt his enemy.

With a flick of his wrist, Frieza sent the ki discs chasing Goku back and forth, following his energy. Annoying. Goku tossed a ball of ki at one, succeeded in disrupting it. Dispatched the others the same way.

“You’ve lost, Frieza,” Goku wanted him to know it without a doubt.

“Go to hell!” Frieza launched a wide beam energy blast at Goku.

Boring. Goku countered with a Kamehameha, smiling as it devoured Frieza’s blast entirely. Darted forward, dropping his elbow onto Frieza’s purple head. The ground cratered satisfyingly where Frieza landed. 

“Impossible!” Frieza was pulling himself upright, eyes bulging, “I cannot lose to a mere Saiyan!”

“You just did.” Goku narrowed his eyes, ground salt into the wound, “even after drawing out 100% of your power, you’ve lost completely.”

It was satisfying, seeing Frieza’s fury. His desperation. The rage inside Goku was chilling, distant. Content, for the moment, with humiliating Frieza in place of ending him. Clearly the more painful of the two options, for Frieza, to know he had been so thoroughly bested. By a _Saiyan_.

“I’ll destroy this whole damn planet, then!” Frieza lifted a ball of energy, “I’ll end you just the same as I exterminated the rest of your sorry species!”

_“Your parents, your people, gone. Frieza is the reason you will never know them.”_

Goku snarled, the golden rage scalding him. Dove to kick Frieza’s blast wide, away from the planet’s surface.

“I’ll make you pay for what you did to them!” The fury seemed to be more than Goku’s alone. Echoes of his brother’s pain, Vegeta’s, Nappa’s. Goku slammed Frieza with a headbutt, cracking Frieza’s nose. 

How dare Frieza take their home. How dare he _gloat_ about it. 

A punch, a kick. Even with just those two blows, when Goku let his new power flow free it was more than enough to slam Frieza choking to the ground. 

Goku followed him down, growling. Landed, raised a hand to fire a final energy blast.

“Wait!” Panic from Frieza, panic that this new fierce power in Goku relished. “Wait, please! I’m sorry! Show mercy!”

Mercy. Goku hesitated, ki banked. 

The part of him raised on Earth. That part would show mercy. 

What was he doing, giving himself into this rage? He wasn’t just Kakarot. He was also Son Goku.

Frieza stared at him, eyes wide. If Goku gave him a second chance, what would he do with it?

“Kakarot,” that was impossible, that was Vegeta’s voice, but he sounded awful, “Kakarot, _finish_ him.” 

Goku turned. 

Vegeta met his eyes. Not dead, not yet. Goku hadn’t realized they’d landed so close to him.

Of course he was too stubborn to die from something as simple as being shot through the heart. 

Relief crashed, a wave. He wasn’t gone. There was still time. That spark, that determination, that smirk, Goku hadn’t lost him yet.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta was still sprawled on the ground, only his eyes showing life. Goku didn’t think he could move anymore. Even his voice was only a whisper. “Kakarot, _please_. You have to _finish_ him.”

Goku took a step towards Vegeta, not thinking. Just wanting. 

A purple and white blur. Frieza, moving between them. Planting his foot on Vegeta’s head. Grinding him down.

The banked rage in Goku flared, all consuming.

“Get _off_ of him, Frieza!”

“Oh?” Frieza sneered, calculating. “Why, is this important to you?”

Goku remembered prisoners kept in cages. Leverage.

Frieza applied more pressure, sneering. Vegeta made a noise of pain. 

Goku snarled, fired a ki blast point blank at Frieza’s face. 

Frieza staggered, roaring in agony. Goku followed up with a kick, heard ribs crack.

“Stop!” Frieza pointed his finger at Vegeta’s head, that same move, the one that created a deadly beam, “stop, or I’ll—,”

Goku slammed a full force Kamehameha into Frieza’s torso.

“Im…poss….,” even dying, Frieza was gasping denial, “a… Sai….”

He collapsed, a wide hole through his chest. Goku stared down at the corpse. 

Frieza had forfeited his second chance the moment he turned back to his old threats and manipulations.

Vegeta coughed. Goku twisted, stumbled, his knees hitting the ground next to Vegeta’s head. The furious energy left Goku in a rush, and his hair felt different somehow.

“Golden,” Vegeta murmured nonsensically, “you were…,”

“Don’t try to talk, Vegeta.” Goku’s heart was slamming in panic. How much longer was ChiChi going to be away? He didn’t know enough about medicine for this.

Vegeta’s hand twitched, and Goku grabbed it, frantic, held on tightly. “Vegeta. Stay with me.”

“You…,” Vegeta’s eyes were drifting closed, unfocused, “did it… Super…,”

“Tell me later,” Goku pleaded, “tell me later, when you’re healed, when we’re back on Earth.”

Vegeta’s lips curved, a soft smile. Not his usual smirk. 

He wasn’t trying to hide anymore, and it was terrifying.

“Kakarot,” Kami, but Goku wished he would just stop _talking_ , why did he have to be so _stubborn_ , “I’m glad… I lived to see it… Frieza, at a Saiyan’s hand...,”

“Vegeta!” Goku pushed with his ki, trying to pour it into Vegeta, but there was nothing left to hold the energy. 

The last spark of Vegeta’s ki sputtered, then died. 

Goku threw his head back and _howled_ , screamed until his throat was raw. Screamed as if it could _change_ anything. 

There was no one else left on the planet to hear.

* * *

Vegeta stayed dead. So did Frieza.

Goku didn’t know how long he stayed there, kneeling on the battlefield next to Vegeta. Long enough for the light to change. Long enough for stars to appear, scattered cold across the sky. Long enough for it to sink in that there was no other ki left on the planet that was anything more than an animal, Frieza’s ship fled the instant Frieza fell.

Long enough for his wounds to stiffen, bruises and cuts and sprains and breaks creating a patchwork of pain across his body.

He still felt numb.

_“We’re going to wish we still had those later,”_ Vegeta had said about the senzu beans, and Goku wished more than anything that Vegeta would wake up to remind Goku that he’d been _right_.

Frieza was dead, the Earth was safe, and Goku had never felt so achingly miserable.

He wished Bulma and Krillin were here. Maybe they’d have an idea of how to fix this.

* * *

Goku laid Vegeta carefully, pointlessly, on the medbay table.

He couldn’t just leave him out there on the battlefield. Couldn’t just bury him on this strange planet. 

Maybe they could take him back to Earth. Would he have wanted that? Maybe Raditz or Nappa would know. 

The world blurred. It had been doing that a lot lately. 

His knees were on the ground. It was cold. 

There was no one.

* * *

Something was beeping. Goku forced his sticky eyes to open. The beeping kept on going, sounding very far away.

He was so cold. Everything hurt. The room was dark, and it took long moments for Goku to understand that he was lying on the concrete floor of the medbay.

The beeping cut off. Goku closed his eyes, wishing he could rest just a little more. He wasn’t ready to start thinking again yet.

Just as his focus was blurring again, the beeping started back up. 

Maybe it was important.

Goku pushed himself up to his knees, hissing in pain. His limbs ached, reluctant to support him. Even this small movement was exhausting.

Stand. He needed to stand. Goku gripped the edge of the medbay bed beside him, levered himself painfully to his feet.

Vegeta lay where Goku had placed him. He smelled dead. Goku turned away, eyes stinging. Staggered towards the beeping noise.

It cut off again partway, then once again restarted. Bracing his left forearm against the wall, Goku limped along the hallway. Why was it so long? 

The beeping came from the communications room. Goku tripped over nothing, half fell into the room’s chair. Fumbled for the button that would answer the call.

Kami, but he hoped it was good news. He couldn’t take any more bad news right now. 

Gohan, ChiChi. Bulma and Krillin. His brother and Nappa. It hadn’t been possible to contact them after the fight with the Ginyu. Vegeta had looked grim about it.

Vegeta was gone.

The viewscreen lit up, Goku finally managing to get it activated. Piccolo glared at him.

“You look like shit, Goku.”

“Frieza looks worse,” Goku told him, surprising himself with the attempt at humor, the familiar pattern of needling his old rival.

Piccolo’s eyes widened. “You beat him? Really?” 

Goku nodded, exhausted, and tried not to think about how wrong he’d been when Vegeta asked him that same question.

“And you haven’t had a senzu bean yet?” Piccolo’s eyes narrowed, the implication clear that he really thought Goku might have forgotten about those.

“Took one before. Picked up too many injuries fighting the Ginyu.” Goku’s thoughts felt like they came slowly through treacle. “Piccolo, have you heard from the others? We couldn’t contact them.”

A grin. “Yes, I have. They beat a couple Ginyu themselves. They’re all well.”

“Thank Kami,” Goku whispered, slumping forwards, elbows on the console, leaning his face in his hands for a moment.

“Their ship was destroyed, though,” Piccolo continued, and Goku had a moment of terror before he remembered that they were fine, somehow, even if the ship wasn’t, “so they’ll be a while coming back. Luckily the second ship was nearby. They’ll pick them up, then head towards you.”

“Okay,” Goku acknowledged, wondering if he could go back to sleep now. 

“Goku,” Piccolo’s voice was sharp, “even if ChiChi isn’t there, you should have enough supplies to clean those wounds. I thought Vegeta at least would have enough sense to think of that.”

“Vegeta’s dead.” Goku wondered if he’d said that loud enough for the mic to pick up. The silence was deafening.

“I see,” Piccolo finally said. 

“I just wish…,” there were so many things, that Goku wished. Most of all, he just wished they’d had more _time_.

Wait. Wish. Wishes.

“Piccolo,” Goku forced himself back upright, staring at the small image of Piccolo on the viewscreen. Piccolo grimaced as if he already knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Goku asked. “I’m sorry. I know it’s selfish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The phrasing “So the monster who can destroy a planet can’t even destroy one little man” is Goku’s from the manga - he just pulled out that raw ass line. Also the “it’s over here” one.
> 
> Next update is planned to be pretty soon - I know this is a bit of a rough ending point!


	25. Making Time: A New Life

Vegeta gasped, eyes flying open, heart slamming.

It was dark, cold. An empty, echoing space. 

Was he in Tor’s domain, the silence that came after battle was no longer possible? 

There was a slamming noise, and light flooded in. Vegeta flung an arm up defensively, heart rate spiking further.

“ _Vegeta_ ,” that voice, so familiar. So warm. 

He dropped his arm, sat up. His body moved easily, no hint of pain or injury.

“Kakarot?” He looked awful, gi torn to shreds, bare torso bruised and bloody. “Where…,”

Were they both dead? But Vegeta had seen Kakarot kill Frieza. Surely at least Kakarot had survived?

Kakarot gave him an odd smile. “We’re in the medbay. I found another senzu bean. Looked like you needed it more.”

Vegeta remembered the first bean, how seamlessly it had sealed his injuries. Truly a miraculous cure.

Had there really just been a third, forgotten, miracle bean lying around in Kakarot’s luggage? Though the idiot _did_ have a tendency to overlook important things. 

Kakarot thoroughly interrupted that train of thought by half-falling on Vegeta, wrapping him in a crushing hug. Shocked, Vegeta sat through the strangeness of it for a moment. The weight of Kakarot against him, the warmth of Kakarot’s bare skin against Vegeta’s chest, the feel of Kakarot’s fingers tangling in Vegeta’s hair. Kakarot buried his nose in the crook of Vegeta’s neck, and Vegeta heard Kakarot sniffle, felt dampness on his skin.

“Get off.” Vegeta squirmed, pushed at the warmth enveloping him. This was too much. He was still _furious_ at Kakarot, Vegeta reminded himself. He didn’t want any comfort from the man.

Kakarot shifted reluctantly, and Vegeta was stunned to see tear tracks on his face. 

_Warm hands, framing Vegeta’s face, wiping the dampness from his skin._

Vegeta flushed, looked away. Realized, with growing horror, that he had only embarrassed himself further after that little episode. 

He’d been so sure he was dying. He’d never expected to have to deal with the mortification of _looking_ at Kakarot again. After _pleading_ with him. After _thanking_ him, for defeating an enemy that Vegeta himself could not.

It was beyond humiliating. Vegeta shuddered, fisting his hands in the sheets he sat on.

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was scratchy, slow, deeply unlike his usual upbeat nature, “could you maybe give me a hand with some bandages? Gonna be a while yet til ChiChi gets back.”

Grimacing, Vegeta turned his head slightly so he could see Kakarot out of the corner of his eye. Realized that Kakarot was barely staying upright.

Those wounds weren’t superficial, then.

“Fine,” Vegeta bit out. He still wanted Kakarot around, after all. He’d need him to explain how he’d actually managed that Super Saiyan transformation. “Wait, do you have some idea now when the others will be back?”

“Yeah,” Kakarot smiled one of his stupid soft Earth smiles, “they’ll be back in a couple’a days, they’ve gotta wait for Cala’s group to pick ‘em up.”

That only partially made sense, but Vegeta doubted that Kakarot was capable of more just at present. 

“Sit down before you fall over.” Vegeta slid off the medbay bed, pushed Kakarot onto it. There was less blood on the sheets than he had expected, from the wound that had pierced his chest. Kakarot must have been fast with the bean.

The battle had left Kakarot shirtless, and it wasn’t a bad look on him. Vegeta glared, mad at himself for his persistent attraction to Kakarot, even after all the times that bastard had withheld the true extent of his strength from Vegeta. Insulted him in the worst possible way.

Far more than Vegeta had realized. That ridiculous display against Frieza. 

A _victory_ against Frieza. Vegeta busied himself rummaging through the medbay cabinets for supplies, glad of the excuse to look away from Kakarot. 

Soli and Tor, he hated this. This knowledge that he had been _saved_ by Kakarot, even as Kakarot had taken the victory that Vegeta had worked towards his whole life.

Even then, Vegeta had fallen short. He hadn’t been enough. Not even close.

Supplies gathered, Vegeta lingered an extra moment. Smoothed his face, erased emotion as if he were about to enter Frieza’s throne room.

He’d never have to do that again. It was an impossible thought.

When he turned, Kakarot was listing to the side, eyes half closed. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked only hazily aware of his surroundings.

Just how much pain was he in?

Vegeta started with the most visible injuries, swiping antiseptic across Kakarot’s skin with more roughness than strictly necessary. Kakarot twitched, face screwing up in discomfort. 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Vegeta snapped, moving to apply gauze, wrap bandages. Outraged at himself for the new gentleness in his movements. 

Kakarot just sighed. Winced, moved a hand to splay across his ribs as if they hurt him. Vegeta made a note to wrap those next.

There were more wounds than after Kakarot’s fight with the Ginyu. Vegeta went after them clinically, trying not to pay attention to the body under his hands. It was too easy for him to imagine running his hands over Kakarot in an entirely different context.

He wouldn’t. He refused to act like some starstruck fool, panting after a gilded victor. He was Vegeta, a power in his own right, he refused to give Kakarot the _satisfaction_.

Kakarot was going to have to take his pants off. Vegeta had already finished with the wounds on his bare torso, but there were gashes visible through the rents in his gi. Those would need bandaging.

His breath hissed between clenched teeth. Anger and frustration that he couldn’t put anywhere.

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was a sleepy murmur. He’d half dozed off, it seemed, once Vegeta tempered his rough handling. “Vegeta, ‘s wrong?”

Was Vegeta so easy to read? The thought scalded. He glared at Kakarot, the man gazing half-focused into the distance. Staring right at Vegeta’s bristling tail, the reaction a blatant tip off of Vegeta’s state of mind.

“Nothing,” Vegeta bit out, “take off your pants.”

* * *

“Frieza’s _dead?_ ” Raditz stared at Nail, unable to believe his ears.

“Yes,” Nail confirmed, unruffled as if he were merely informing them all of the state of the weather, “the one you call Piccolo was able to contact the one you call Goku. He confirms Frieza’s death.”

“ _Yes!_ ” Bulma jumped, punched the air, spun to grab ChiChi and dance in a circle with her, the two women smiling giddily, “yes, yes, they did it! They actually did it! I knew it! I knew they could!”

“My dad…,” Gohan was smiling, so gentle and so damn proud, Krillin grinning and slinging an arm around his shoulder in a half-hug, “my dad, he really did that, didn’t he?”

“ _How?_ ” Raditz still couldn’t believe it. The simplicity of it, the finality, the impossibility, after a lifetime holding his breath in fear. “How could that monster just be _dead_ like that?”

Nappa put a hand on Raditz’s shoulder, squeezed. It was grounding. A warning, too, to get a grip on himself. He was a Saiyan warrior, not a scared cub.

“Were there any casualties on our side?” Nappa asked, and fear paralyzed Raditz as he realized that Nail hadn’t said Vegeta’s name yet.

“Goku and Vegeta both live,” Nail reported, and relief nearly slumped Raditz to the ground, only Nappa’s grip on his reminding him to stay upright. 

“ _Yes!_ ” Bulma yelled again, twirling to grab Gohan and Krillin into her dance circle, “we won! We won!”

Raditz needed, abruptly, to be elsewhere. His head was spinning enough already, and the Earthlings were only making it worse.

* * *

Nappa gave him a couple hours to himself before showing up. At least, Raditz thought it was a couple hours. Hard to tell time on this damn always-light planet with its oversupply of suns.

They spoke Sadalan. It felt right.

“It’s finally over,” Nappa said, casting a shadow from behind him.

Raditz shuddered. “It’s still hard to believe,” he admitted. Watching the water far below, refusing to turn around.

“I know,” Nappa said.

“I guess we can get the details when we get there.” It still didn’t feel real. Raditz couldn’t really believe that it had turned out so well until he saw Kakarot and Vegeta, confirmed with his own eyes that they were still alive. Heard in their own words that Frieza was dead.

That they were really free.

Nappa just grunted. Raditz wondered what the hell he was thinking. Unlike Vegeta and Raditz, Nappa was old enough to remember a time before Frieza. The way their planet had been without his rule.

What would they do now? If Frieza was really dead, and their lives no longer centered on survival, what the hell came next?

* * *

Vegeta paced back and forth next to the main room’s window. Outside looked utterly normal, buttery sun, greenery waving in the wind, fluffy clouds.

He _hated_ it. 

It had been hours since he’d dumped Kakarot into bed, finally bandaged. The bastard’s ki was miserably low, barely registering in Vegeta’s senses. He had to focus far too hard to pick it out.

Damn him. Kakarot wasn’t allowed to die like this. Not in the aftermath of a battle he’d won.

Where the hell was their medic when she was needed?

Vegeta should check on him. Look for signs of fever, anything he actually had the ability to fucking treat.

He hated checking on him. Kakarot limp and pale against the sheets. Dragging horrible feelings from Vegeta, like _concern_ of all things.

Nothing about this felt right.

* * *

Raditz had never been so happy to see Cala. Not even that time clearing planet Tware when she’d decided to save his neck at the last possible moment.

“Frieza’s _dead?_ ” Finally, someone else expressing the appropriate level of shock.

“Apparently,” Raditz muttered, while the Earthlings did their best to drown him out with enthusiastic affirmative. 

“Lyil’s tits,” Cala muttered, a distinctly Ilian way of putting it. 

Behind her, Zaril had been pulled into the celebrating crowd of Earthlings, along with the three-eyed man and the woman with color-changing hair. Zaril looked shocked still, scaled green tail stiff with disbelief. 

Cala’s brother put a hand on Cala’s shoulder, squeezed, and Raditz realized how much he missed having Kakarot around.

* * *

Bokardi, when Raditz finally met her, was only just barely taller than the Namekian healer child they’d confusingly acquired.

_”If I can help, then I must go,” the tiny Namekian said, looking bewilderingly sincere, “Guru has said that a healer will be needed, and I’m the best healer here.”_

Raditz was trying not to think too hard about why the giant elder thought they needed a healer, with whatever weird magic farseeing or something that he had at his disposal.

A burst of wild laughter startled him, a wail of despair. Krillin overreacting horribly to losing another round of some card game, Bulma celebrating her win with far too much glee. 

How the fuck were they so _relaxed?_

It was going to be an utterly agonizing couple days’ flight back to Kaneks, and not just because the ship was at nearly twice its intended capacity.

* * *

“Kakarot.” Vegeta shook him by the shoulder. Only lightly. 

Soli, but he hated seeing Kakarot so fragile.

“Nn.” Kakarot’s face screwed up in pain. 

“Time to wake up, Kakarot.” Fortunately he was probably too feverish to retain any memory of Vegeta’s voice in that moment, which had far too much overtone of _caring_

“Vegeta.” Kakarot finally registered him, eyes fluttering open, gave him a smile that did unexpected things to Vegeta’s stomach. That warmth, that relief, as if Vegeta sitting here squinting at him was a miracle beyond anything he could have hoped for.

Or maybe Kakarot was just out of it with painkillers and fever, and Vegeta was letting his imagination run away with him.

“You need to eat,” Vegeta told him, doing his level best to ignore the warm fluttery feelings. 

“‘Kay,” Kakarot said, trustingly, as if he’d do anything Vegeta asked of him without hesitation. 

He probably would, damn him. Why was it so hard to stay mad at the arrogant fool?

“Sit up.” Vegeta slid a hand under Kakarot’s bare shoulder, wished he had worn his gloves. Skin on skin, hot, a want he refused to acknowledge. Kakarot had no such compunctions and made a happy noise, invading Vegeta’s space to the maximum possible extent as Vegeta gingerly pulled him upright.

He ended up with Kakarot leaning all along his side, head heavy on Vegeta’s shoulder. 

The so called silver lining, to use the Earth term, of everyone being off planet. No one else was around to witness this. 

“Here.” Vegeta shoved the food towards Kakarot, some sort of soup that he’d be able to get down easily. Kakarot curled closer against Vegeta, practically inviting himself to sit in Vegeta’s lap, but obediently took the bowl and started spooning up soup. Vegeta cautiously braced his free hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around Kakarot, against the bowl. Kakarot’s grip was far too shaky. 

Only half the soup was gone by the time Kakarot started drifting off again, head nodding against Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta rescued the soup, shoved a glass of water at Kakarot. Managed to get him to take some sips through a straw before he slumped back into sleep.

He shouldn’t be fading in and out like that. It suggested severe injury, his body shutting down everything but the essentials to try to cope.

Vegeta eased Kakarot back onto the pillows, letting his hands linger against messy black hair, fever-warm skin. Safe in the knowledge that Kakarot was far too out of it to notice any affection in his movements.

* * *

Kaneks filled the viewscreen. Raditz realized he felt the urge to hug a fucking _planet_.

“Almost there,” Zaril said, chipper at the main controls. Raditz continued to enjoy the quiet of his co-pilot seat. 

It was a much less eventful landing than their touchdown on Namek.

“Fucking _finally,_ ” Vegeta greeted them, standing at the end of the ship’s ramp with arms crossed and glare at full force.

“Nice to see you too, Vegeta,” it really was, despite the sarcasm that Raditz tried to imbue his voice with, “where’d you lose my brother?”

Vegeta grimaced, tail twitching agitation. “He needs a medic.” 

Bad enough that he couldn’t stand? That was pretty bad.

“I can help!” Dende exploded from the ship behind him, sounding delighted to be able to do something.

Raditz watched Vegeta bring his tail safely around his waist at the sight of a stranger. “This way.”

* * *

Kakarot looked like shit. Dende’s face was screwed up in concentration, bent over him doing something that made green light. 

“Rough battle, huh?” Raditz stood slightly behind Vegeta in the doorway. The Earthlings were crowded around Kakarot’s bed, looking ready to smother him in hugs the second Dende cleared him.

“Very.” There was an undertone in Vegeta’s voice that made Raditz shudder.

“You need the healer to have a go at you next?” But Vegeta looked fine. Completely healthy, as if nothing at all had happened.

“No.” Vegeta shrugged, then smirked when Raditz gave him a look of disbelief. “I had a magic bean.”

“You had a fucking _what_.” 

Sniggering at him seemed to cheer Vegeta up, so that was something.

* * *

Kakarot was healed. Because of course the Earthlings had managed to find a magic healer on the planet where they crash landed.

How did they keep _doing_ shit like that?

“Vegeta!” 

In retrospect, he had preferred Kakarot semi-comatose. 

Vegeta ignored Kakarot completely, slamming the door in his face. He had a very brief view of Kakarot’s smile sliding away before the latch clicked home.

Kakarot lingered outside for a few moments, ki bright and warm. Vegeta curled his hands into fists against his bedroom’s door, leaning his forehead on the cool wood. 

After too long, Kakarot gave up and left without attempting to knock.

_Finally_.

Vegeta sighed, crossed the room in a few steps to flop down on his mattress, tail twitching. There was no one here to witness it, at least.

_Fucking Kakarot_. Why was he so determined to try to _hug_ Vegeta every time he saw him?

_The Earthlings were all talking at once, a wash of sound. Vegeta leaned on the wall next to Raditz. There was a pinched look on Raditz’s face, as if his head was hurting._

_“Vegeta!” Kakarot burst out of the room, apparently having escaped the Earthlings, and ignored all two meters tall of his brother to dive at Vegeta._

_He only just barely got his arms up in time to stave off the hug, capturing Kakarot’s wrists. Raditz made a sputtering noise next to him. Vegeta turned, snarling, ready to cause pain if it was laughter. Kakarot wriggled free of Vegeta’s grip and squished Raditz in a hug before Vegeta could decide if an attack was warranted on either brother._

Kakarot had perhaps gotten the message not to attempt hugs in front of an audience, but had then tried another attack when Vegeta was minding his own business in the kitchen, then _again_ when Vegeta was escaping the noise of the building to sit near the neighboring river. 

Why the _fuck_ did he keep doing that?

Someone knocked. Vegeta felt out the ki signature, grimaced, rolled off the bed to open the door. 

“Raditz.” 

“Yo, Vegeta.” Raditz looked subdued still. It occurred to Vegeta that he still hadn’t heard the full story of why they were down a spaceship. 

There was a question in the flick of Raditz’s tail. Vegeta moved aside to let him in, clicking the door shut behind him. Stood facing away for a moment, bracing himself.

“So what happened?” Raditz asked his back, when Vegeta apparently took too long to turn around. 

At least he hadn’t invited himself to sit on Vegeta’s bed as Kakarot would have done. When Vegeta faced him, Raditz was leaning against the far wall, looking grim.

Vegeta kept his back against the door, folded his arms. Looped his tail around his waist, and noticed Raditz frown as he tracked that motion.

How the fuck was he supposed to answer that question? Vegeta’s own role in that battle had been pitiful. 

He’d have preferred to never speak of the entire damn thing ever again.

This was only Raditz. They’d known each other most of their lives, grown together. 

Telling Nappa would be even harder. Vegeta felt ill when he thought of the disappointment that would be in Nappa’s face, a distant echo over time of Vegeta’s failure to meet his father’s wishes.

He’d had one job left to him, as Prince. He had been utterly unable to accomplish it.

“J’tou Vegeta.” His Sadalan title. A shock of cold water. 

Vegeta tensed, realized he was curling in on himself, staring at the ground instead of towards Raditz. Couldn’t manage to force himself into a more fitting posture. 

“Hey.” Raditz had moved closer. “What the fuck happened out there? Is Frieza really gone?”

Ah. 

“Yes.” It would have been beyond cruel for Vegeta to leave that as a question in Raditz’s mind. “Frieza’s very thoroughly dead.”

“Thank fuck,” Raditz muttered, and Vegeta snorted, the familiar coarseness snapping him back to something closer to normalcy.

Raditz was silent for a stretch. Vegeta eventually tipped his head back enough to look at Raditz’s face, instead of his broad chest.

Slightly narrowed eyes, weighing him. Vegeta glared back. 

“You’re being weird,” Raditz told him bluntly, and Vegeta bared his teeth, “is this something to do with Kakarot?”

The sheer _audacity_. Vegeta growled outright. How dare Raditz speak to him as if in challenge?

“Whatever.” Raditz shrugged. “I’ll just ask Kakarot for the battle details, then.”

Vegeta hated the relief that brought. That he wouldn’t have to describe his humiliation with his own voice. 

“So, where are we going next?”

The question caught Vegeta completely off guard. “What?”

“Now that Frieza’s gone,” Raditz prompted, “where are we going next?”

As if there was never any question that they would be going as a unit. Presumably Nappa too.

Would that still be the case after Raditz and Nappa learned the details of Frieza’s defeat? Any tie they had to Vegeta had been cut. He no longer stood as buffer between them and Frieza. Was no longer strongest. Kakarot would be within rights to challenge him directly for his title, to claim it.

The legendary Super Saiyan. That golden power. Vegeta hated him for it.

“Vegeta.” There was a sharp note in Raditz’s voice. Vegeta bristled in response, glowered up at him. “Do I need to drag you to the medic for a check-up or something? You’re a mess.”

Damn him. Would he have spoken to Vegeta like this before Kakarot?

Raditz stared at him, then nodded, apparently to himself. “Just think about it. We’ve got a few days to decide where we go.”

It took a moment for Vegeta to realize that he needed to move away from the door to let Raditz leave. He got another disobedient look, as if Raditz might actually try to drag him to the medic.

The quiet left behind was not the relief that Vegeta had expected.


	26. Making Time: Going Home

“Frieza’s _dead?_ ” Yamcha’s shock came through the comms. 

“Yeah, that’s old news,” Bulma drummed her fingers against the table, “didn’t Piccolo tell you?”

“Well, yeah, but—,”

“So Earth’s fine, right?” Bulma interrupted, wanting to get back to the point of the call, “no sign of PTO or anything?”

Yamcha blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times before refocusing. “We’re fine over here. No sign of PTO since you left. I guess the plan worked pretty well.”

“I mean duh,” Bulma grinned, suffused with relief, “it was my plan, after all.”

Sort of. 

Kami, she couldn’t believe it had _worked_. That they’d really managed to draw fire away from their home for all these months. That they could go _back_. 

“So we’ll see you soon, then?” Yamcha sounded hopeful.

“As soon as we get a ship sorted,” Bulma promised, then sighed as Yamcha’s face told her she’d have to explain what had happened to their first ship in a little more detail.

* * *

Vegeta was back. He was okay, he was glaring, he was growling.

He was very determined not to let Goku hug him, but it was hard to remember. 

Goku had missed him _so much_ , in the hours that Vegeta had really been gone. But of course that time had been nothing for Vegeta. 

He’d really be furious, though, if he ever learned that Goku had lied to him again. 

There had been no third senzu bean.

* * *

“Kakarot.” 

Goku turned, grinned at his brother. “Hey, Raditz.”

What a relief that he’d been alright. That they’d all been alright. Gohan, Krillin, Bulma, ChiChi. Raditz and Nappa. All back in one piece.

“Hey,” Raditz smiled back, accepted a hug from Goku, “you’ve been in a weird mood lately.”

Huh. Goku had hoped it wouldn’t be so obvious.

“What happened with Frieza?”

He wanted to answer his brother’s question, really. But where did he even start?

“Well, we beat him,” that was the most important bit. Raditz nodded, slowly. 

Goku stopped there. Not wanting to remember the rest. Except Raditz stood there, waiting, and surely he deserved to hear a little more about Frieza’s end, after all those years he’d been stuck in the PTO.

“It was harder than I expected,” Goku continued as Raditz snorted in disbelief, “he had transformations, three of them. The fourth shape he took, that was unbelievably strong.”

Raditz made a horrified choking noise. Goku looked up to see that his brother had gone bone white.

“The first three shapes he had weren’t so bad,” Goku reassured, “we didn’t even fight him in the first one, he transformed straight off. Vegeta could handle Frieza by himself no problem, in those second and third forms.”

That fourth form, though. Goku still remembered it, the chill of fear when he realized he’d hit a wall, couldn’t win even with kaioken times 20. 

Realized he might lose the battle and lose everything he cared about with it. 

“We did pretty good,” Raditz was frozen, leaning in, Goku should probably be speaking a bit louder but he couldn’t, “working together, we really managed to hurt him. Vegeta’s Oozaru form is pretty strong, y’know?”

Goku hated seeing it though. A monster in place of someone he cared about, a monster that reminded him of loss.

“I got Frieza with a Spirit Bomb, it’s a pretty big attack,” how else could he explain it, to someone who’d never seen it used? 

Raditz shivered. “So that was enough? This Spirit Bomb thing?”

If only. Goku’s eyes stung, remembering the hope of that moment. Thinking it was over. “Not quite. But we got him after.”

Should he mention the Super Saiyan thing? He didn’t want to, somehow. The memory of Vegeta’s death, that loss and rage drowning him. Goku didn’t want to talk about it.

“Soli and Tor,” Raditz muttered, and Goku smiled faintly, starting to feel like the Saiyan goddesses were familiar friends, “four forms, what the fucking hell.”

“Yeah.” Goku had wanted a challenge, and he’d gotten more than he’d imagined. “That Frieza was pretty tough.”

Raditz stared at Goku as if he’d just spoken some other language, and shook his head.

* * *

Bulma drummed her fingers against the worktop bench, restless. Cala had headed off with Zaril, her brother, and Nappa of all people to steal a second ship. Just a short hop, a few days round trip. 

It was taking _so long_ for those few days to pass. Frieza was dead, Bulma wanted to be _back on Earth_ already. 

She sighed, pulled up another set of schematics. It all felt a bit pointless now, looking at old airplane designs after years of hacking into sensitive PTO systems with the knowledge that their lives really did depend on it.

The door swished open behind her, and Bulma turned, hopeful that it would be someone interesting.

“You need to increase the capacity of the gravity room,” Vegeta snapped by way of greeting, “100G isn’t enough.”

“Well hello to you too,” Bulma sniped back, “good to see you again, so nice of you to drop by.”

He did at least fill the criteria of ‘interesting’.

Vegeta glared at her, looking even less friendly than usual. Bulma frowned. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Fuck off,” Vegeta snapped.

“Wow, rude much?” Bulma rolled her eyes, “what a way to react to someone worrying about you.”

Vegeta paced closer, looking as restless as she felt. Casual today, Earth-style workout clothes in grey and black, hands and feet bare, no PTO gear in sight. He scanned the mess of the workshop’s desk as if he needed a distraction. “I don’t _need_ worrying about.”

“It was pretty tough against Frieza though, wasn’t it?” Bulma had still hardly heard any details of the battle from Goku, though he was never very good at describing his own fights in proper detail. Too bad Krillin hadn’t been along to spectate this time. 

The worktop bench cracked under Vegeta’s hand, and he looked startled. That loss of control, that wasn’t usual for him was it?

His tail was wrapped tightly around his waist. Bulma hadn’t seen him hold it like that in a while around them. Raditz had explained that Saiyans usually let their tails do whatever felt natural when they were ‘home’, which was what this space should have counted as, right?

“Seriously though, are you _actually_ alright?” He didn’t seem injured, but something was way off, “does ChiChi need to have a look at you?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Vegeta snarled, whirling to face her, fists clenching. Some of the papers on the desk scattered as if in a sudden breeze, and the hair stood up on Bulma’s neck. That must have been a burst of ki flying loose from control. 

“Hey how come you’re _not_ injured?” Goku had looked half dead when they arrived. Thank Kami for Dende. 

Surely Vegeta must have picked up some injuries. What happened to them?

Vegeta grimaced, started randomly rearranging things on the workbench, stacking them neatly. If Bulma had an actual organization system she would have been mad about the disruption. 

“I _was_ injured,” Vegeta said, and Bulma watched his tail shift, loosening then returning, as if he was trying to decide whether this space was really friendly territory, “fatally.”

“Oh.” The last word took a moment to catch up to Bulma. “Wait, _fatally?_ ”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. 

“A senzu, then?” There had been those two left, after all. 

Vegeta nodded. “Kakarot found a third one.”

A _third_ one? That was impossible. There had only been two, carefully hoarded for years, saved for dire emergency only. 

“A third one,” Bulma said out loud, feeling as if the room was spinning. 

She must have looked weird too for a moment. Vegeta gave her a frown that was almost worried. 

“What happened to the first two?” Accounting. She needed to go through an accounting. 

“We ate them when we felt Frieza’s approach.” Vegeta was still looking at her oddly, puzzled. “After fighting the Ginyu, our injuries were too severe to stand a chance otherwise.”

“So you remember? You remember for sure that you and Goku each ate one, and healed?” 

Vegeta’s tail was looser now, looped against his thighs, the end twitching slightly. Bulma thought it might be a puzzled twitch, instead of an angry one. “Yes. I’m certain we each ate one, and healed. Why?”

“What about the third one?” Bulma’s heart was thudding, a scenario she didn’t want to acknowledge taking place at the edges of her mind, “do you remember eating it?”

“I—,” Vegeta stopped, confused. “No, I have no memory of eating it. But it must have existed. I’d be dead otherwise.”

Yeah. That was exactly the scenario that Bulma had been trying not to think about.

* * *

Trust Bulma to figure it out. 

_”Kami, Goku. He was really dead, wasn’t he?” Bulma’s wide blue eyes, looking right through him._

She hadn’t told Vegeta, of course. The same calculation that Piccolo had made and bound Goku to with a promise. Before he’d agreed to make the wish, _bring back Vegeta._

It was still too dangerous for the Saiyans to know about the Dragonballs. 

Goku rounded the last curve of the corridor, paused. Stared at the closed door of Vegeta’s room.

He could feel the pulse of ki in there, reassuring and alive. Precious still after that freezing moment when Goku had felt it flicker out entirely. The hours he’d feared never feeling it again.

Goku raised his hand and knocked.

“Fuck off, Kakarot.” 

Vegeta had been avoiding him all day. Goku had only hazy memories of the time between when Vegeta had revived and when Dende had healed Goku, but Goku thought that Vegeta hadn’t been quite so distant before.

“Come on, Vegeta, just let me in?” There was a confusing cascade in Goku’s head, memories of kissing and holding and loss. 

The image still came vividly, Vegeta collapsing with a hole through his chest, red spilling against his bare skin.

“No hugging,” Vegeta growled as he opened the door, even as Goku’s hands twitched towards him.

“Sorry.” Goku stepped inside, folded his arms. Vegeta looked exhausted, not himself at all, tail lashing in agitation. It was a struggle for Goku to stay put, to not step forward and wrap his arms around Vegeta.

“What do you _want_.” There was frustration in Vegeta’s voice.

“I—,” Goku wanted to hug him, but that seemed like a bad answer, “I just, I—,”

I missed you, he couldn’t say, because Vegeta couldn’t know that he’d really been gone.

“You have _everything_ ,” Vegeta spat, voice raw, echoes of the pain Goku remembered that time he’d walked in on him in the bathroom, and wow that was a lot to remember, “ _everything,_ Kakarot, why won’t you just _fuck off_.”

Goku didn’t understand any of this, the fury in Vegeta’s voice. Hadn’t they been getting closer? The kiss after the Ginyu, in the medbay. That feeling, gone with Frieza’s attack, of relief, something overcome, something to look forward to.

“Vegeta, why are you mad at me?”

“ _Why?_ ” Pure fury in Vegeta’s tone, tail bristling with rage, “you _lied_ to me Kakarot, _again_.”

Goku thought for a long moment that Vegeta meant the senzu, but that couldn’t be it right?

“When did you achieve such power?” Frustration, clenched fists, “why _did you hide it from me_.” 

Oh. “I wasn’t hiding it, Vegeta, I just—,” 

Yeah, saying he’d never needed to bring out twenty times kaioken in their spars wasn’t going to help either.

The snarl Vegeta gave told Goku he’d drawn his own conclusions anyway.

“Get stronger, then,” Goku challenged, only half thinking, “get stronger and beat me next time.”

Something to tie them together. Something to keep Vegeta near. They’d been competing for months, getting closer and closer over it, and Goku wasn’t ready to lose that just because Frieza was gone.

“You _dare,_ ” Vegeta snarled, rage incarnate. Perfectly balanced, power in every line, sharp canines, bare arms corded with muscle.

_Yes,_ something in Goku whispered. 

“I bet you can do it too,” Goku stepped forward, into Vegeta’s space, smirked when Vegeta refused to budge and glared up at him. “Super Saiyan. I bet you can get there.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Vegeta growled, and Goku realized he’d found the center point of Vegeta’s anger, “go ahead and rub it in that you got there _first_.”

“Well hurry up, then,” Goku risked dropping a hand to Vegeta’s shoulder, squeezed, “no one else knows yet, unless you told ‘em.”

Confusion in Vegeta’s face, so much he didn’t think to shake off Goku’s hand. “Why wouldn’t you share it?”

Because it felt like too much, right now. Goku shrugged. “Just decided not to, yet.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Don’t get cocky, Kakarot. I’ll put you back in your place soon enough.”

Finally. Goku grinned, relieved. “I’m lookin’ forward to it, Vegeta.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes as if he thought Goku was mocking him, as if he didn’t believe that Goku really meant every word.

* * *

Bulma sat drinking tea with ChiChi and Launch, unable to believe how _nice_ and _normal_ this felt. 

“I can’t believe we’re about to go home,” she said aloud to the other two women.

ChiChi took a sip of her tea, sighed. “I can’t wait, really. What a relief. And Gohan will finally be able to focus on his studies.”

“Being on a spaceship was fun,” dark-haired Launch said, showing her usual surprising disregard for her own safety, “I think I might miss it a little.”

Bulma thought about the number of cities where blonde-Launch was wanted by the police, and wondered if Launch might end up taking a few more trips in spaceships. 

Cala wandered into the room, squinted at their tea. “I still don’t get that stuff.”

“Oh, but it’s delicious,” Launch smiled, and Cala’s head frill did a little wave motion that Bulma couldn’t interpret. 

Zaril entered, snickered and said something to Cala in a different language. Cala swatted good-naturedly at her shoulder, both women laughing.

“Hey, where are you two headed next?” Bulma felt slightly guilty for not asking sooner.

The ex-PTO women both gave her puzzled looks. “Hadn’t really thought about it,” Zaril said finally, which sounded unlikely. 

“Well, why don’t you come to Earth then?” Bulma smiled as they both looked hesitant, “come on, my house has heaps of room!”

“I mean,” Zaril’s tail swished back and forth at ground level, a very different motion to a Saiyan tail that still managed to convey nerves, “if you’ve really got room?”

“So much room,” Bulma reassured, smiling. 

And if having them stay over gave her a chance to get to know them a bit better, to finally have some women friends other than Launch and ChiChi, that wouldn’t be a bad thing either.

* * *

They were back in a spaceship. It felt even smaller than last time. Goku had claimed the chair next to Vegeta on the flight deck for take-off, had spent every moment since reminding himself that Vegeta wouldn’t _want_ Goku to put a hand on his knee, or his shoulder, or really any part of him.

Vegeta’s ki still hummed warm and steady, his scent soothing and familiar and present. 

He was coming back to Earth with them, and Goku didn’t think he’d stopped smiling since Vegeta confirmed that. 

_More time._ They’d have it, on Earth. Just as Goku had wished for.

Time with his brother, too. Raditz sat just behind them, a comforting looming presence. Gohan would be happy to have his uncle around still to share his books with.

Nappa wasn’t there, though, and that just felt weird.

_“I’m not coming back to Earth,” Nappa’s growl sounded as Goku was walking past the kitchen._

_What?_

_Goku stuck his head around the door, saw the other three Saiyans making a mismatched set of uncomfortable expressions. Nappa grim, Raditz and Vegeta shocked. Vegeta especially looked off balance, eyes wide, tail twitching._

_“Where the fuck are you going, then?” Raditz asked when Vegeta stayed silent._

_“Cubs don’t need to know,” Nappa said, and Vegeta and Raditz both twitched, suddenly indignant, “there’s something I need to do, is all, and it ain’t on Earth.”_

_“What kind of something,” Vegeta demanded, finally finding his voice._

_The table looked tense in a way that Goku hadn’t seen between those three before. It felt off._

_Nappa finally shrugged. “Just checking on something. Besides, you don’t need your old bodyguard around for your Earth vacation.”_

_“I haven’t needed a bodyguard _ever_ ,” Vegeta snapped, and Goku winced as everyone looked slightly hurt in different ways. _

__

Then they’d noticed Goku standing there, and Vegeta had yelled at him about eavesdropping and third class manners. Goku didn’t think that Vegeta had noticed the annoyed look Raditz shot him at the third class comment.

So Nappa was on the other ship with Zaril piloting, getting dropped off on the same defeated base where they’d send off Bokardi. Plenty of other spaceships to steal.

Nappa was big, but the gap he’d left still felt even bigger than Goku had expected. Everything just a little off balance somehow, Vegeta and Raditz seeming somehow younger, confused. 

Though Vegeta had seemed his usual self when he declared that the freed-up space on their ship meant he’d no longer be sharing a room. Krillin was bunking with Raditz, Goku with Gohan again, and it sure was nice to have more time with his son.

_”Dad,” Gohan hugged him as if he never wanted to let go, and Goku hugged him back just as hard, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”_

Krillin had told him about how Gohan fought against the Ginyu. Goku was so damn proud. 

They’d get back to Earth. They’d rest. They’d breathe. 

They’d all have time, to just _live_ , without fear.  



	27. Making Time: The Fight Never Ends

Vegeta tried to slam his fist into Kakarot’s nose.

“Hey!” Kakarot protested, flaring his kaioken higher and dodging, voice light as if the attack was only a mild inconvenience, “we agreed no headshots, Vegeta!”

The bastard was _still holding back_.

Snarling, Vegeta spun to aim a kick at Kakarot’s rib cage, not dignifying his complaint with an answer.

Kakarot vanished, moving so fast Vegeta briefly lost sight of him. Something sharp, probably an elbow, slammed Vegeta between the shoulder blades, flinging him to the rocks below.

_Damn him._

Vegeta landed lightly, twisting to fire a volley of ki blasts. Kakarot didn’t even bother to dodge, just swatted the spheres aside as if they were nothing.

The worst part of it was that even now, even as he made light of Vegeta, Kakarot was nowhere near his full power. 

How had Vegeta fallen so far into his shadow? Fear curled through him, the terror of being left behind.

150G in the gravity room, and he was no closer to unlocking Super Saiyan.

Here Kakarot stood, dancing circles around Vegeta, and he _hadn’t even fucking transformed yet_.

Vegeta let his rage out in a scream, slamming a Galic Gun towards Kakarot’s disgustingly calm face. 

He could have dodged. But no, the fucking show off decided to _catch it_ instead, canceling the energy out. 

His loss. Vegeta was already moving, obscured by the violent purple of his ki attack, to slam his foot towards Kakarot’s head. 

It was a surprise when his kick connected.

Kakarot went down hard, ki plummeting. No more kaioken.

Had he lost consciousness? 

There was an underwhelming thud as Kakarot hit the ground below, lay facedown, unmoving. 

Surely he hadn’t actually _hurt_ him?

“Kakarot?” Vegeta landed next to him, braced for an attack. But there was nothing. 

He bent, cautiously rolled Kakarot over with a tentative hand on Kakarot’s shoulder. 

Definitely unconscious. Blood dripped from a scrape on his temple. From his landing, presumably, rather than Vegeta’s kick. 

“Uhh,” the peaceful slackness of unconsciousness left Kakarot’s face, replaced by a pained grimace, “ow.”

Vegeta clenched his jaw against the ‘sorry’ that tried to escape. “It’s your own fault for being such a show-off,” he said instead.

Kakarot _glared_ at him, and Vegeta was startled to realize how rare that was. “We agreed no headshots, Vegeta. I know you understand English just fine.”

“Galactic Standard, you mean,” Vegeta snapped back, sick to his stomach of everything centering around Earthling ways. 

Wincing, Kakarot pushed himself into a sitting position. “We’re done sparring for the day.” 

It came as another surprise to Vegeta that he was disappointed by that. Infuriating as Kakarot was, sparring with him was still somehow _enjoyable_. Against all comprehension. 

“I told you to stop holding back.” Vegeta had meant to growl, to be accusing, but it came out flat. “I know you understood that just fine, too.”

Kakarot frowned at him, rubbed absently at the trickle of blood trying to drip into his eye. “I don’t want to actually hurt you, Vegeta. That’s not what sparring is about.”

There was a thread of accusation in his voice again. Vegeta squashed down the horrifying urge to tell Kakarot that _knowing_ Kakarot was holding back simply caused a different sort of pain.

A small smile curved Kakarot’s lips, and Vegeta wondered how the hell Kakarot could sit there and direct that at him while bleeding from Vegeta’s out of bounds attack. 

“I’m done for the day, but how about we work on your transformation for a bit?”

Vegeta grimaced, looked away from the _understanding_ in Kakarot’s eyes. 

They’d been back on Earth for about a week now. Planning to stay, enough that it was worth thinking in the time units of this planet, and that felt unendingly strange. 

Enough time for Vegeta to push himself to 150G up from the 100G they’d trained in before facing Frieza, but nowhere near enough for him to master the Super Saiyan transformation that Kakarot had seemed to reach so _easily_. 

Anger unlocked it, Kakarot had said. Pure rage. 

As if Vegeta had never felt _angry_ before. He’d spent most of his fucking _life_ angry. 

So what the _hell_ was he missing? 

Nothing Kakarot could tell him, so far. 

“Or not,” Kakarot added, and Vegeta realized he’d been silent for too long, avoiding Kakarot’s eyes, tail twitching behind him, “it’s up to you.” 

If rage alone unlocked the damn transformation, he’d have reached it earlier today when he realized that Kakarot was still only _playing_ with him.

“I don’t need _you_ to practice that,” Vegeta said, and watched hurt cross Kakarot’s face, “go home.”

“Right.” Kakarot stood, wobbled slightly, and Vegeta wondered just how much damage he’d actually done with that kick. “See you tomorrow, then?”

Vegeta shrugged. Their daily sparring sessions. Something to anticipate and dread in equal measure.

“Fine. Tomorrow.”

* * *

Raditz took one look at Goku when he landed, shook his head, and went to get the med kit.

Goku hadn’t realized that he’d actually been feeling a bit lonely out by himself in Mt Paozu until his brother decided to move in, and the feeling just vanished. When Gohan had left a few days ago to stay with his mother after his days with Goku, the house hadn’t felt _empty_ like it sometimes did.

“I thought you weren’t doing headshots while sparring,” Raditz said, as he handed Goku an ice pack for the bruise that was surely forming under Goku’s hair. Pushed Goku into a seat and roughly swabbed at the scrape on his forehead. Goku flinched away. “Hold _still_ , Kakarot.”

“Yeah, I thought we weren’t doing headshots either.” Why was Vegeta still  
so _angry_ at him?

Raditz made an irritated noise, tail flicking behind him, and slapped a bandage over the apparently pretty small scrape that had been doing all the bleeding. 

“Beer?” Raditz waved a bottle at Goku, already grabbing one for himself out of the fridge. And wasn’t that weird, having beer in the house when Goku had never really cared for it. 

Raditz sure seemed to like it. Maybe it was better than Goku remembered?

“Uh, yeah, I’ll try one.”

He wasn’t quite sure about the flavor, but the bubbles were nice, and it did feel refreshing somehow. They sat in the shade outside, drinking beer, and it felt peaceful in a different kind of way.

It made Goku’s head feel light, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. 

“You really pissed Vegeta off,” Raditz said lazily, accompanied by a single amused flick of his tail, “how’d you managed to do it just that badly, huh?”

“I dunno,” Goku took another sip of beer, was surprised to find the bottle was light now, “maybe he didn’t like the kissing as much as I thought he did?”

He’d really thought Vegeta was enjoying it, that it was a two-way thing. That first time after Ginyu, Vegeta had only stopped because he tasted blood, hadn’t he? Though that second time, the medbay, maybe that hadn’t been real. But what could have changed so fast?

Vegeta had seemed pretty mad about Goku getting to Super Saiyan before he did, but surely that wasn’t still it? Goku wasn’t keeping anything about the transformation secret from Vegeta, after all, and it was only a matter of time before Vegeta got there.

Goku couldn’t _wait_ to spar with him once he managed it.

Raditz had gotten awfully quiet. Goku tilted his head, found his brother staring at him with an unreadable expression. Maybe shock?

“What?” Had Goku said something weird?

“You _kissed_ him? You kissed _Vegeta?_ ” Raditz said, and Goku wasn’t sure if he should be offended by the shocked tone or not. 

“So?” Was Raditz one of these people who got weird about two guys kissing? Goku didn’t think so. “Why’re you that surprised?”

He’d been told by several different people that he wasn’t bad looking, and he’d gotten the impression that Vegeta was on the same page about that. Was it really _that_ surprising that they’d kissed?

“Vegeta doesn’t _do_ kissing,” Raditz said, and that was not what Goku had been expecting. 

Raditz seemed… upset? He seemed upset. 

Goku remembered, very abruptly, that time that he’d gone to get Vegeta for a medical checkup and found the door locked. With both Vegeta and Raditz inside. And Vegeta’s voice had sounded so much rougher than usual.

“Oh shit,” Goku said, words coming fast, “Raditz, were the two of you—,”

“No,” Raditz said sharply, cutting off Goku’s panicked question, “we weren’t… like that. No kissing.”

That didn’t mean they hadn’t been doing other stuff.

There was anger on Raditz’s face now. 

Goku decided to drop it, and took another gulp of beer to keep his mouth full.

* * *

“Oh, Raditz, hi.” Bulma looked startled to see him, took a step back.

Raditz probably looked pretty mad right now. Not Bulma’s fault. 

“Hey, Bulma.” He tried to smile, and Bulma took another step away. Right. A few too many teeth in that smile. “‘Scuse me for a bit.”

“S-sure,” Bulma said, giving a very shaken smile back.

Vegeta had the misfortune to just be exiting the gravity room when Raditz found him. 

He looked exhausted. _Good._

“Vegeta,” Raditz greeted, slamming his hands against Vegeta’s shoulders hard enough to knock Vegeta back into the gravity room. The doors slid shut behind them. 

The shock that crossed Vegeta’s face was gratifying. Vegeta was far stronger, but he was tired, and with his ki depleted after training so hard he was at a disadvantage against Raditz’s greater bulk. So very like Vegeta to spend all afternoon sparring with Kakarot and then top it off with more fucking time in a gravity chamber.

Which meant that he was weakened enough for Raditz to grab him by the throat and slam him against the gravity room’s wall.

“You _asshole,_ ” he hissed in Vegeta’s still-shocked face, “you kissed my _brother?_ ”

Vegeta had reflexively wrapped a hand around Raditz’s wrist at his throat, but hadn’t put any real pressure behind it. Raditz apparently wasn’t even gripping him that hard, because Vegeta had no trouble replying. “He _told_ you?”

“ _That’s_ all you have to say?” Raditz squeezed harder, enough that Vegeta growled a warning, vibrations against Raditz’s hand. 

“You fucking _used_ me,” Raditz hissed, not loosening his grip, furious beyond what he’d thought possible. 

He’d actually _cared,_ actually fucking _worried,_ for fucking _years,_ pushing aside how one sided it felt, like an _idiot_.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. He clenched his hand around Raditz’s wrist, squeezing bone, numbing. Raditz’s fingers opened without permission, and Vegeta’s bare feet dropped to the gravity room’s floor.

“You _let_ me,” Vegeta growled, pushing Raditz’s arm aside as if it were a mere inconvenience, and Raditz distantly wondered if he’d break it in retaliation.

They stood frozen like that. Raditz was struck, as he always had been, by the sheer _fury_ contained in Vegeta’s small form. Here he stood, barefoot, shirtless, only chest high to Raditz, absolutely spitting mad, with the capacity to utterly destroy Raditz if he wanted to, exhaustion or no.

It had always been intoxicating, that volatility. Raditz had leaned into it. Chalked it up to just Vegeta’s quirks, that he’d never let anyone kiss him. That he wasn’t built for softness like that.

But no. Apparently he was perfectly capable of it. He just hadn’t been _interested_ in that with Raditz. 

It _hurt_ , and the worst fucking thing was that Vegeta was _right_. Raditz had just _let_ himself be used as a convenience. 

_Why the fuck had he done that?_

Vegeta abruptly dropped Raditz’s wrist, grimaced. Leaned back against the gravity room wall with folded arms, tail flicking with poise, as if this were a normal conversation. 

“I’m done,” Raditz said, startling them both, “I’m done being used.” 

They stared at each other. Confused at the different shapes they were taking on this new planet, in this new life without Frieza.

“Alright,” Vegeta said, in a tone Raditz couldn’t parse at all. He didn’t look mad. 

A little lost, maybe. 

Why the fuck did Raditz still _worry_ about him?

“Done with the sex, I mean,” Raditz clarified, and now Vegeta just looked even more confused, “not with the. Not with the other stuff. The Saiyan stuff. J’tou Vegeta.”

Vegeta jumped when Raditz said his title in Sadalan, and that was pretty fucking weird. 

Soli damn him, Raditz wished he could stop _caring_.

“Right,” Vegeta said, still looking adrift in a way that Raditz hadn’t seen on him since they were cubs.

“Right,” Raditz echoed, clapping an overly familiar hand to Vegeta’s bare shoulder.

Bizarrely, Vegeta didn’t shake it off. 

Where the fuck did that _leave_ them?

* * *

“Wow,” Yamcha said, staring after Raditz, “what’s his problem?”

Bulma glared. “Leave him _alone_ , Yamcha.”

She was so _tired_ of his little digs at the Saiyans. Bulma had spent months a ship with them, working _together_ to undermine Frieza. They were abrasive, sure, but Bulma wouldn’t hesitate to call all three of them her friends. 

They’d always come through when it counted. Prickly personalities she could forgive. She had one herself after all.

“I just don’t see why they had to come _here_ ,” Yamcha said, as if there was anywhere else left for the Saiyans to go.

“It’s not like they have their own fucking planet anymore, Yamcha.” Goku had passed along Vegeta’s revelation that Frieza had been the one to destroy the Saiyan homeworld, and Bulma had been filled with pure fury on their behalf. 

Yamcha folded his arms and silently conveyed that he really didn’t see how that was his problem. Bulma fumed.

“You just _sat here_ while we were out fighting, you don’t _get_ to pass judgement.”

Shock, and Bulma wondered for a minute if she’d finally get a rise out of him, a real reaction rather than something half-baked. “I—, you _left_ me here! It wasn’t _easy_ , you know, holding the fort down.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, thought back to all their near-death experiences. “Yeah, I’m sure you worked real hard.”

He was so _frustrating_. Nothing she did or said seemed to really land. Where was his _passion?_ Why did he never really _fight back?_

Yamcha just stared at her, wounded, and continued to fall disappointingly short of acting like her equal.

* * *

There was a bruise blossoming across Vegeta’s throat where Raditz had grabbed him. It joined the wide assortment of bruises he’d racked up during his spars with Kakarot. 

_Damn them_.

He pulled on one of the Earth-shirts with a tall neck and long sleeves. A useful style. It mostly hid the damage.

Bulma was at the dinner table, working her way through a bottle of wine. She waved vaguely towards the fridge. “Help yourself.”

Vegeta yanked it open, identified several microwaveable meals. Started them heating.

“Boyfriends are the _worst_ ,” Bulma said, and Vegeta had a moment of pure panic before he realized she was probably talking about her own relations instead of his. 

“Hm,” he said, because she tended to start snapping if no response was forthcoming. The noise jarred his sore throat. 

“I mean,” Bulma continued, apparently content with that minimal acknowledgement, “a relationship is supposed to be a fucking partnership, not one person and a doormat.” 

Whatever he had been doing with Raditz had definitely not been a relationship, then. 

Vegeta was still deeply reluctant to feel bad about it. 

When had he started _caring_ , so much, about what his actions caused other people to feel?

It was _miserable_ , this caring.

He took his collection of microwaved food to the table. Bulma squinted at him, poured wine into a mysteriously present second glass, and pushed it at him. 

Vegeta finished it in one gulp. Maybe it would make the lackluster food taste better. 

“I hate strings,” Bulma said, swirling her wine glass in a way that reminded Vegeta too much of Frieza. His arm shot across the table to grab her wrist before he had thought the motion through.

They stared at each other. “Don’t do that,” Vegeta said finally, “with the glass.”

Bulma set it down. Looked pointedly at where his hand rested on her arm. Barely any pressure applied, controlled enough that even his unconscious motion hadn’t damaged her fragile Earthling bones. 

Vegeta started to pull his hand back, and Bulma caught it. He let her. 

“You could break me,” she told him cheerfully, “but you won’t, right?”

He wouldn’t. The knowledge surprised him. 

Bulma nodded, satisfied. Patted his hand. 

“Let me know if you ever want to blow off some steam.”

* * *

Kakarot was _late_. Vegeta glared at the idyllic Earth scenery. The soft green land and fluffy white clouds that had looked so unassuming and harmless when he’d first set foot on the planet many myria -- many months -- ago. 

He resisted the urge to rub a hand against his neck. The bruise from Raditz had faded to near invisibility, and despite Bulma’s best efforts last night she hadn’t been able to add any more marks to his skin.

_”You used me.” Unaccustomed fury in Raditz’s voice, strength and pride in him that Vegeta hadn’t expected._

He hadn’t expected to feel _guilty_ , either. Even less to feel fucking _grateful_ at Raditz’s reassurance — he’d fucking _reassured him_ , like Vegeta was a frightened child — that the rest of what was between them remained unchanged.

_Why_ did it remain unchanged? Raditz had his brother now, his brother who was even stronger than Vegeta, his brother who he’d simply moved in with upon return to Earth. Vegeta wondered why Raditz had even asked Vegeta where they would go, after Frieza — why wouldn’t Raditz simply go where his new, powerful family was?

“Vegeta!” Kakarot landed, an unexpected blur of blue today instead of orange, waving cheerfully.

“You’re late,” Vegeta informed him, trying not to read too much into Kakarot’s choice to not wear what was clearly his battle uniform.

“Sorry,” Kakarot raised a hand to rub at the back of his head. Vegeta had seen Raditz do that too, when he was guilty about something as a cub.

“I was running out of my usual, so,” Kakarot gestured at the two tones of blue he wore, wrap-style tunic over loose gi pants, not dissimilar to Vegeta’s current clothing, “I had to find something different.”

The Earth government was paying them all an apparently substantial sum of Earth currency simply to exist peacefully here as deterrents to any fragments of the PTO that found their way to this corner of the galaxy. Some wrangling on Bulma’s part. Couldn’t Kakarot simply replace whatever he needed?

“I don’t care about your clothes, Kakarot,” Vegeta said. Kakarot got a very odd look on his face, and Vegeta felt his skin heat slightly at the unintended implication that he might care far more about what was _under_ those clothes.

It was fucking accurate, but Kakarot didn’t need to know that.

“Right,” Kakarot said, tone light and loaded with nothing at all, “ready to spar, then?”

Vegeta growled, braced himself into a fighting stance. “That’s what we’re here for, Kakarot. Let’s go.”

* * *

Goku kept his power higher this time, a steady use of his ten times kaioken. 

That should be enough that Vegeta wouldn’t be able to damage him too much with anymore illegal headshots. 

It made it harder, though, not to damage Vegeta. He was collecting bruises and ki burns far faster than their previous spars. 

At least it was good practice for Goku maintaining a higher kaioken output consistently. And Vegeta had _said_ that he didn’t want Goku holding back so much.

Goku put Vegeta through another mountain, watched him pushing himself snarling to his feet, and wondered if this was really what Vegeta had wanted.

Then Vegeta smirked, braced himself into an unfamiliar stance, arms in front of him with palms out and fingers curled as if to cup energy. Sparks crackled around him, splitting the ground where they struck. An immense wave of ki gathered and released.

When had he learned to do _that?_

Goku flared his kaioken up to twenty, met the attack head on just to see if he _could_. It scalded, immensely powerful, and disintegrated a good portion of his shirt.

So much for this morning’s hunt to find a gi somewhere in the house that wasn’t covered in patches. He was going to need to figure out how to buy more clothes at some point.

Vegeta stood, panting and looking satisfied with himself. 

Goku grinned, relishing the sight, then returned the favor with a Kamehameha. 

Realized when it hit Vegeta, knocking him back, that he’d miscalculated the force of his strike by a _lot_. 

_Shit._

“Vegeta?” Goku darted down to check on him. Vegeta lay sprawled on his back, tunic disintegrated. His blue PTO pants were still mostly in one piece.

He was blinking up at Goku, looking confused. 

“You okay?” Goku laid a hand against Vegeta’s bare chest, felt the reassuringly strong thud of his heartbeat, the rise and fall as he dragged in breaths.

Vegeta coughed, tried to lift an arm then dropped it again. “Fine.”

The hell he was. “We’re done for the day,” Goku said, echoing yesterday, grimacing at the look on Vegeta’s face. 

He looked _hurt_ , or disappointed. Maybe both. Expression far more open than usual in his current state of exhaustion.

Vegeta continued to lie on the grass, staring up at the sky. “You’re still holding back, aren’t you.”

He didn’t even sound mad about it today. Just tired.

“I like you _alive_ , Vegeta,” Goku snapped, fear sharpening his voice. Vegeta tipped his head to give Goku a puzzled look, echoed by a confused flick of his tail.

Goku swallowed hard. Realized as his fist started to clench that he was still resting his hand on Vegeta’s chest, over his heart.

_A spray of red, Vegeta collapsing slowly._

“Kakarot?” Goku wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but it was enough that Vegeta looked, impossibly, _concerned_.

Goku realized his eyes were stinging, blinked hard a few times. “You can’t get any stronger if you’re dead, you know?” 

Or at least Vegeta wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t have Goku’s ‘service record’, wouldn’t be permitted to keep his body in the afterlife to train. That scared Goku too, the idea that once Vegeta was really dead, he’d simply be gone. Wouldn’t be somewhere Goku could meet him again after.

“I’m a long way from being _dead_ ,” Vegeta snapped, “don’t oversell yourself, Kakarot.”

Ah, there it was. That stubbornness and pride. Goku smiled. 

He hadn’t needed to worry after all about the tiredness in Vegeta’s voice. Vegeta was nowhere near to giving up just yet.


	28. Making Time: Under the Influence

“Goku drinks beer now?” Yamcha sat bewildered next to her. “Is that a space thing?”

“Not that I know of,” Krillin said from her other side, equally confused.

“So he changed his tastes a little, big deal.” Bulma shrugged, took another gulp of her own beer. Glanced over at Cala, Cala’s brother, and Zaril, who seemed to still be in shock at the almost complete lack of reaction from the waitress who’d come by to take their order.

No matter how many times Bulma had told them that Earth had plenty of stranger looking folks, they’d been _extremely_ hesitant to let her drag them to a bar. 

She’d won, of course. It’s what she did.

Even Vegeta had eventually been convinced to come. He looked especially tiny sandwiched between Raditz and Cala, one elbow propped on the table to hold his chin in his hand. 

Raditz swallowed a large amount of beer at one go, nudged Vegeta with an elbow. Got glared at. “Hey, this is way better than even the stuff on Eber, don’t you think?”

Vegeta shrugged, looking especially sullen, and went back to glaring at the table instead of Raditz. 

What was up with those two? 

“Wait, when’d you manage to find time to get _beer_ on Eber?” Cala had no problem meeting Raditz’s eyes over the top of Vegeta’s head, “wasn’t that an emergency only kinda stop?”

“Eh,” Raditz shrugged, gave one of those toothy Saiyan grins, “we can be pretty creative.”

A smirk curved Vegeta’s lips. Bulma wasn’t sure he realized he was doing it.

“Creative how?” Goku asked from where he sat between Raditz and Krillin, unusually interested in storytelling.

But then, Saiyan stories tended to involve fighting, so that made sense. 

Raditz launched into a long description of an emergency landing on Eber, which turned out to be one of the core PTO ally planets but not one that foot soldiers were typically permitted on unless they needed urgent ship repairs or something. The story contained surprisingly little fighting, and a lot more sneakiness than she’d expected.

“And we were really fucking tired after clearing Gannril, so when the ship had problems we didn’t want to just have to get right back in the air, y’know,” Raditz was telling his rapt audience, while Vegeta continued to look grudgingly amused, “but rules are rules, so we were set to head right back up as soon as they fixed the busted coolant system.”

“But you didn’t?” Zaril was leaning forward rapt. “How’d you get out of that one?”

Raditz snorted, tipped his head to Vegeta and raised an eyebrow. Vegeta rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Well,” Raditz turned back, and Bulma had a feeling he was about to get to the best bit, “we get to the market, and Nappa and I are still grumbling about how little time we’ll be on the ground for, Vegeta just pulls the ganivat out of his armor and says we’re staying for a while.”

Cala made a choking noise, and Zaril hissed in impressed shock. 

Bulma grinned, even though she could see that Goku, Krillin, and Yamcha hadn’t gotten the punchline. The ganivat was tiny, but the ship wouldn’t fly without it. Plausibly it could have been damaged or lost in the space fight, and with the stereotypes of thick-headed Saiyans plastered all over the PTO databases, who would think to suspect that it had been deliberately removed?

Still, that had been pretty ballsy, given the way the PTO dealt with disobedience. 

“So we actually got to rest for a bit, for the first time in fucking forever,” Raditz continued. Most of the rest of his anecdotes made it sound like they’d had to drag Vegeta to relax with them by force, even though Vegeta had been the one to score them the rest time.

So stubborn, that Vegeta. Even when he clearly wanted to relax, he’d never do it willingly.

Goku wasn’t watching his brother anymore. He was leaning forward on the table to watch Vegeta with a deeply fond expression.

Bulma didn’t think she’d ever seen him make quite that expression before. Did he even realize he was doing it?

Vegeta turned and glared at him for it after a couple moments, but Goku just smiled back unbothered. It didn’t look like Vegeta quite knew what to do with that response. Bulma watched him gulp down more beer as if it would solve something.

_Impossible strength under her hands, muscles that she knew could stand up to 150G. Vegeta rested one hand against the wall, palm spread, causing no damage. Bulma sucked kisses against the bruise on his neck and smiled as he stilled, control stretching further, holding himself carefully harmless against her._

Okay, so maybe he couldn’t quite blow off steam carelessly when he could break most people on the planet with his little finger, but she thought he’d relaxed a bit anyway.

She’d sure had fun. 

It had also been a reminder that she had options other than Yamcha. They’d always been so on again off again, breaking apart whenever they hit even a slightly rough patch, rushing back together when the loneliness got too much.

Not that she could imagine _dating_ Vegeta, or that he’d even _want_ to. 

Vegeta had stopped glaring quite so much as he went through his beer. Goku’s expression was downright sappy, and he was _still_ focused on Vegeta, as if delighted that Vegeta was doing something as simple as sitting there with them.

Well. Given that Vegeta had been _dead_ not so long ago, that actually was something worth being excited about.

The weird thing was that Vegeta was starting to look _embarrassed_ by the attention. 

What was going _on_ with those two?

* * *

Kakarot wouldn’t stop _staring_ at him. Vegeta shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoped no one else noticed.

Turned to see Bulma watching them both with a calculating expression.

Shit.

“So where are you headed after Earth?” Yamcha interrupted Raditz’s reminiscing with Zaril about the horrors of PTO cafeteria food.

The abrupt silence at the table felt poised. 

Kakarot was the one to break it. “Yamcha, why would you _say_ that?”

“Well I mean,” Yamcha gestured vaguely, looking uncomfortable, “you’ve just listened to half an hour of stories about other planets they’ve all been to, why would this one be any more permanent?”

Kakarot looked shattered. Apparently he normally did guard his seemingly unguarded expressions, because a Kakarot who was tipsy was a Kakarot who was also open to an absolutely painful degree.

He turned that horrifyingly open distress towards Raditz and Vegeta, and Vegeta felt Raditz flinch, knocking into Vegeta’s shoulder as he moved closer. 

“You’re not leaving, right?” Wide eyed pleading that encompassed them both. 

“Uh,” Raditz said, looking like he wanted to sink into his hair and hide, “we, uh, I mean, probably not for a while?”

Kakarot continued to look distressingly distressed. 

Raditz glanced sideways at Vegeta with an expression that screamed ‘help’. 

Vegeta didn’t have anything more to add to the statement that Raditz had already given. The idea of permanence was as alien to him as this planet. 

They’d been without a home for far longer than they’d had one.

“But, I mean,” Kakarot looked between Vegeta and Raditz as if searching for salvation, and though Vegeta knew objectively that Kakarot was the youngest of the three of them, he’d never looked as young as he did in that moment, “you could just _stay_ stay? Permanently?”

“Well shit Kakarot,” said Raditz, which Vegeta thought summed it up well, “I mean, maybe, but who the hell knows?”

Certainly not Vegeta. 

He had, at some point, leaned into Raditz as Raditz leaned into him, leaving them pressed side to side. United in uncertainty. 

“Goku, come on, why does it matter so much?” Yamcha sounded upset, his own reaction to Kakarot’s emotions spilling everywhere.

Kakarot turned and stared at him. Accusation hardened his face, a confusing swing. “How can you ask that? Why _wouldn’t_ I want my brother and my friend to stay?”

“We’re not frie—,” Vegeta started reflexively, before Kakarot glared so hard he fell silent without meaning to.

“Besides,” Kakarot said, snappish now, and Vegeta was starting to register just how little experience Kakarot had at holding his alcohol, “I’m not from this planet either, and it’d sure be nice to have at least a _couple_ people around who don’t think I’m weird for, for— for having a tail, for eating too much, for _enjoying fighting_.”

The Earthlings had all gone very still. 

“Goku,” Krillin started, sounding shaken, “we— we never meant to make you feel _weird_ like that, we—,”

The anger drained from Kakarot as instantly as it had appeared, and he smiled widely at Krillin. “I know. It’s okay. You’re a good friend, Krillin.”

This was _dizzying_. Did Kakarot always contain such complexity, hidden behind that gentle smile?

When Bulma cleared her throat and suggested that maybe they should all call it a night, Vegeta could have actually kissed her for it.

* * *

Raditz and Vegeta couldn’t _leave_. Goku was already starting to miss Nappa, and that was just Nappa.

They’d have to at least wait on Earth til Nappa got back from whatever he was doing, right? Otherwise it’d be hard to meet up again in space.

So they’d be here for a while. Right?

Why did Yamcha have to _say_ that.

Goku trailed after Bulma and Vegeta as they walked the short distance back to Capsule Corp, ignoring the glares Vegeta kept shooting him. Cala, Cala’s brother, and Zaril were somewhere behind him, muttering in one of the languages Goku didn’t speak.

Raditz had flown back to Mt Paozu, and Goku wished he was still with them. Wished also that Krillin and Yamcha hadn’t left with such subdued expressions.

He should have kept holding it in, that out of place feeling he kept recognizing more and more. It had just slipped out.

Goku was starting to think beer might be a bit dangerous. 

The kitchen in Capsule Corp seemed crowded, even with just three people after Cala, Cala’s brother, and Zaril hastily split off.

Vegeta stared at Goku and made a frustrated noise, tail now loose and lashing. “Go _home_ , Kakarot.”

“Don’t wanna.” Goku folded his arms stubbornly, watched Vegeta groan and drag fingers through his hair.

Goku wished he could do that. Twist his fingers in Vegeta’s hair. Pull him closer, keep him there. 

Why did he keep finding new ways to _leave?_

“So, round two?” Bulma had turned, holding a dark bottle of something. When she pulled the lid off, Goku could smell the alcohol from across the room. That was _way_ stronger than beer.

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good.”

Vegeta took a glass and swallowed it as if it would fix something. Goku watched his throat move, fascinated. 

Bulma immediately refilled the glass, and Goku thought that was her expression when she was _planning_ something. 

“So did you boys have fun by yourselves before the Ginyu showed up on Kaneks?” Bulma asked sweetly, and Vegeta choked on his drink.

How did she _know?_ Goku stared at his oldest friend, wondering if she’d figured out telepathy at some point.

Bulma’s smile turned wicked. “So you _did,_ huh.” 

Vegeta turned slightly wild eyes towards Goku, and Goku tried to communicate silently that he had said absolutely nothing to Bulma. 

Unless Raditz had?

“Welp, I think I’ll call it a night,” Bulma said, deliberately stretching and giving a yawn that Goku wasn’t quite convinced by, “I’m all tired out. See you tomorrow.”

She vanished, leaving the darker alcohol very conspicuously on the counter within Vegeta’s reach.

“Just how many people did you _tell_ ,” Vegeta hissed at Goku in a strangled voice, refilling his glass again. Goku wondered if he should be worried about that.

“I only told Raditz!” Goku protested. Vegeta glowered at him. “Uh, sorry if you didn’t want me to?”

“Whatever,” Vegeta muttered, lifting his glass but sipping instead of gulping. That seemed like an improvement. 

“Hey, were you two, uh,” Goku didn’t know how to frame the question.

“It’s none of your _business,_ ” Vegeta snapped, tail bristling. 

Goku frowned. It kinda seemed like it might be. But if Vegeta and Raditz really didn’t want to talk about it, then he’d stop asking.

“You’re so _confusing,_ ” Vegeta muttered, slouching against the kitchen counter. His limbs looked relaxed, which Goku thought was probably just because of the alcohol.

“ _I’m_ confusing?” Goku shook his head. “Look who’s talking.”

Vegeta glared, but his usual sharpness was softened by the alcohol, and it looked a bit more like a pout. Goku’s eyes were drawn again to Vegeta’s tail, flicking against the cabinets. 

That was frustration of some sort, but Goku had a feeling it was a complex type he hadn’t quite seen before.

“You,” Vegeta wasn’t finished, pushing himself upright to step into Goku’s space. Goku smiled a bit, glad to have him closer. “Don’t give me that fucking look, Kakarot, I’m still _mad_ at you.”

Vegeta’s fingers were curling into Goku’s shirt, his forearms resting warm on Goku’s chest. 

They were so _close_. Goku tipped his head down, their noses nearly touching, and brought his hand up to thread his fingers through Vegeta’s hair.

“Still mad,” Vegeta muttered again, even as Goku felt Vegeta’s tail slide up to curl around Goku’s waist.

Oh, that. That felt _nice_. That felt like it _meant_ something, something that Goku wished he knew with clarity. 

He missed his own tail sharply. If he’d had it still, he could have returned the gesture. Maybe even wrapped their tails together, that would have felt even _better_.

Vegeta was relaxed and warm against him, and Goku couldn’t _not_ lean down to bring their lips together. Twisted his fingers more firmly into Vegeta’s hair, steering. Brought up his other hand to spread across Vegeta’s lower back, pressing them closer. 

The kiss was hot, slower and deeper than the last two. Goku sank into the sensations, losing track of time, of anything other than Vegeta pressed against him.

Abruptly Vegeta growled, pulled away, flattened his palms against Goku and pushed. Goku reluctantly released him, tried to read his expression.

“You’re not _better_ than me, Kakarot,” Vegeta snapped, glaring.

“Never said I was,” Goku protested, “never _thought_ I was. Come on, Vegeta, you’re amazing.”

The glare slid off Vegeta’s face, replaced by utter confusion. His tail tightened further around Goku’s waist, even as Vegeta pushed them apart with braced arms. 

“I don’t _understand_ you,” Vegeta complained again.

“Same to you,” Goku said, felt his mouth curve in a smile. Vegeta managed to partially revive his glare.

“Hey, Vegeta, you’re gonna stick around though right?” It still nagged at the back of Goku’s mind, that fear. What if Vegeta just left before Goku could make sense of him?

Vegeta pushed harder, and Goku dropped his hand from Vegeta’s back. Felt Vegeta’s tail slide away as Vegeta stepped to put distance between them.

They stared at each other for a few beats, nothing settling. Vegeta shook his head and Goku’s heart plummeted.

“I’m not making promises, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, then turned, walked away. “Go home.”

It took all of Goku’s willpower not to follow him.

* * *

Earth’s serene blue sky felt like a fucking taunt, at this point. At least clouds loomed on the horizon today, satisfyingly dark and heavy.

He’d kissed Kakarot. _Again._ Barely even a week since Kakarot had flattened him to the grass during their sparring, _still_ without needing to draw on his full power.

What did Kakarot _want_ from him, trying to extract promises that Vegeta would stay?

Most of his life he’d spent bound in the shadow of someone stronger. Much as he wanted to stay until he could finally defeat Kakarot, the thought of tying himself to a set location with words and guarantees made Vegeta’s skin crawl. 

He’d stay because it was his _choice_ , not because Kakarot kept asking it of him. 

Kakarot was early today, his ki bright and steady at their sparring location. Vegeta was flying more slowly than usual.

The thought of facing Kakarot filled him with something like dread, and he _hated_ that. Hated this _weakness_ in himself.

They hadn’t sparred since that day, Kakarot insistent on recovery time. Vegeta had intended to spend most of it in the gravity room, but Bulma had taken one look at him and disabled the fucking thing, depriving him of time to prepare himself for the next sparring session.

He’d fucking _needed_ that time. His new attack had damaged him more than Kakarot, recoil from the massive energy burst leaving his arms aching and heavy. 

Why couldn’t he fucking _hurt_ him? 

Except he had, that other day, with that kick to Kakarot’s head, and that had been far less satisfying than Vegeta had wanted. He hadn’t enjoyed Kakarot’s crash to the ground at all.

What the fuck was _wrong_ with him?

“Vegeta!” Kakarot was thrilled as always to see him when Vegeta finally landed. A pause, a tilt of Kakarot’s head. “We’re sparring, right?”

That was probably a jab at Vegeta’s wardrobe. He was entirely in Earth clothes today, sleeveless shirt over what Bulma had called ‘track pants’, loose and held up at the waist by elastic. 

Both pairs of his PTO pants were now too shredded to wear. Fortunately it had been easy enough to goad Bulma into getting to work on a replacement. All Vegeta had needed to do was imply that the PTO must be technologically superior to her, if she couldn’t do something as simple as replicate _fabric_.

Never mind that it was fabric that could stretch to dozens of times its original size. She’d taken the bait.

“Yes, Kakarot, we’re sparring,” Vegeta growled, wishing Kakarot were even a fraction as easy to predict as Bulma seemed to be.

“Great!” Kakarot bounced on his toes, grinning, once again ready to play his _games_.

Vegeta snarled and lunged before Kakarot had braced himself, and felt his rage climb just a little bit higher as Kakarot easily spun aside from the unwarned attack.

If only reaching Super Saiyan could be so simple as getting _angry_.

* * *

They were both so _stubborn_. Bulma sighed, took a gulp of good, good coffee. She’d gone to get some of the real premium stuff to celebrate returning to Earth, being able to just get any variety of fresh coffee bean she wanted again. Not just whatever she’d been able to pack.

PTO notes on battlesuit fabric littered the screen in front of her. Creating fabric that could stretch that much _really_ wasn’t simple. Stupid Vegeta. 

Stupid and very off-limits Vegeta. Bulma felt a little guilty for not noticing Goku’s crush earlier. He wasn’t very subtle about it.

Apparently Vegeta had already known. The idiot just wasn’t _acting_ on it, and Bulma was starting to wonder if he even had _eyes_. 

Then again, he was probably overthinking it or something. Bulma could sympathize. 

So she’d make him the stupid battlesuit, but he’d better _at least_ say thank you when she was finished. 

If he didn’t, she was declaring open season on uncomfortable conversations about why the hell he was messing with her oldest friend’s emotions like that.


	29. Falling: Free

Kakarot looked dejected when he landed. Raditz sighed. 

He wasn’t even going to fucking ask. The cause was obviously more of Vegeta’s bullshit. 

Raditz couldn’t even stay _mad_ at the asshole. Vegeta was the only familiar thing on this Tor-forsaken planet. 

Though at least Cala and Zaril got what he was talking about, when he remembered from before. That was something.

“He’s mad either way,” Kakarot said forlornly, even though Raditz had said absolutely nothing to prompt him.

“Yeah, well, what’d you expect?” Vegeta was still Vegeta, composed mostly of volatile temper, even if he did seem to have a soft spot for Kakarot.

Knowing Vegeta, he was probably also mad about having a soft spot.

Kakarot sighed, dropped into a chair. Started to stay something, shook his head and cut himself off.

Raditz turned back to his examination of Earth’s housing options. He had money, bizarrely, a kind of freedom he couldn’t remember ever having. 

Staying with Kakarot was nice on the one hand, but Raditz didn’t want to stay _forever_. Would make it awkward to bring anyone home, for one thing.

He really did not want to fucking be here when Kakarot and Vegeta concluded whatever bizarre dance they were doing.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Kakarot asked, and Raditz lied and said he was learning about the history of cities just so that he didn’t have to see that terrified look Kakarot had turned on him in the bar the other day.

* * *

They were sparring again, and Goku _couldn’t win_.

At fighting, sure. But he still had no damn clue what Vegeta wanted.

“ _Stop holding back,_ ” Vegeta snarled as Goku held his kaioken steady at times twelve. Even as Vegeta collected more bruises, hadn’t managed to land a proper hit yet.

“Vegeta, come on,” Goku protested, “there’s no rush.”

In fact, the longer it took Vegeta to beat him, the longer he’d be here. Right? 

He’d been improving so damn fast. Goku figured he’d probably catch up with Goku’s twenty times kaioken within a few weeks, at this rate.

Goku would be able to go higher by then, but still. Pretty impressive.

Vegeta swung another kick at Goku’s rib cage. Goku blocked it.

There hadn’t been any more attempts at headshots after that day where Goku lost consciousness.

“Condescending _bastard_ ,” Vegeta hissed, fury in every line. He flung an energy blast at Goku’s chest, forcing Goku to raise his kaioken to avoid ki burns.

Goku had never had anyone to spar with who gained strength so quickly. It was intoxicating, knowing that next week he’d need to be able to go even higher to fend off Vegeta’s ki attacks.

“You _disgust_ me,” Vegeta spat as he fired a two-handed ki blast, and Goku was abruptly _so tired_ of being yelled at.

“Fine then!” Kaioken times twenty, a Kamehameha fired in return that swallowed Vegeta’s smaller blast.

Eyes wide with shock before Vegeta was engulfed again, slammed to the ground.

“Dammit Vegeta, you were supposed to _dodge_ that!” Goku dropped to check on him. _Why_ did Vegeta keep insisting that Goku needed to use more strength when Vegeta couldn’t quite keep up just yet?

Vegeta twitched back from Goku’s outstretched hand, conscious but looking _off_ in a way that was painful.

“Vegeta, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you—,” Goku’s apology stumbled to a halt as Vegeta abruptly _screamed_ , head thrown back.

* * *

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Kakarot said, eyes apologetic, and Vegeta felt something _snap._

He _had_ been scared. Just for an instant, of that strength that he _knew_ had killed Frieza. Been scared of fucking _Kakarot_. Stupidly kind, gentle Kakarot, who had to be goaded for half a stupid Earth hour before he’d even _think_ of using the strength that Vegeta knew he possessed.

What was _wrong_ with Vegeta? Why couldn’t he _catch up_? Why wasn’t he _better_?

He was a prince, he was better than this, stronger than this, and he had fucking _asked_ Kakarot to let loose, _why couldn’t he withstand it_. 

All those years under Frieza, cowering before a larger power, and it was _infuriating_ on a level that Vegeta couldn’t put words to, that he was _still trapped there_ , cringing in a _shadow_. Kakarot had defeated Frieza with ease, but as long as Vegeta remained unable to stand against him, the weight was the same, the knowledge that he could never have been free of Frieza under his own strength alone.

_Why_ could he not simply _be done_ with that part of his life? Now that Frieza was dead, gone, why did that _ceiling_ still remain?

Vegeta didn’t fully register it, the scream that tore free, years of pent up rage at himself for not being stronger. For not being able to beat Frieza, for not being able to defend himself from the Ginyu force, for _failing to live up to his destiny_ , the one his father had envisioned for him, and why the _fuck_ was his father’s deal with Frieza his to _escape_.

There was nothing _fair_ in this, and Vegeta was furious at himself for _expecting_ there to be, even as he was furious at the universe for giving his victory over Frieza to _Kakarot_.

Why could he not be _more_ than this? Why could Vegeta not make himself _enough?_

It felt all consuming, this rage, grief, frustration, a flare of white hot energy that stole his breath even as Vegeta realized his eyes were streaming.

He tipped his head back upright, stared into Kakarot’s shocked face, realized he was heaving for breath.

“You did it, Vegeta,” Kakarot said nonsensically, stunned expression starting to break into a wide grin, “Vegeta, you _did_ it!”

“ _What?_ ” Vegeta managed, bewildered. He’d done _what?_

“Super Saiyan!” Kakarot yelled, face split in a smile, and he wasn’t making any fucking sense, “you were right, Vegeta, it’s _golden_.”

It registered finally, the sheer _power_ that was coursing through Vegeta’s veins. It was _real_.

“Oh, let me do it too!” Kakarot transformed effortlessly, and it was _stunning_ , the upswept gold hair and blue-green eyes that Vegeta remembered only hazily from Namek. 

Kakarot’s worried eyes met his own. Hand warm, Kakarot reached up and swept moisture from Vegeta’s face, and why was Vegeta always fucking _crying_ in front of him lately?

“Look,” Kakarot said, rudely grabbing a chunk of Vegeta’s hair and pulling it down so that it was in Vegeta’s face. Golden, just as Kakarot’s was. “That’s you, you see, you did it!”

Why did he not feel _better?_ The same aching fury that had propelled him to transform lingered in his bones. 

“I think it takes a while to um, stabilize?” Kakarot said, sounding uncertain now, and it occurred to Vegeta that he should respond to Kakarot’s babbling at some point. “When I transformed I didn’t really feel like myself for a while, but I got used to it after a bit.”

“You said it was rage,” Vegeta told him, meeting Kakarot’s impossibly green eyes. 

“Yeah,” Kakarot looked worried, “isn’t it?”

“It’s—,” it’s _grief_ , Vegeta didn’t say. Perhaps it wasn’t, for Kakarot. Perhaps they were simply that different, even down to how this transformation was triggered.

Transformation. Vegeta had _transformed_. Into a Super Saiyan, the pinnacle of Saiyan strength.

He was laughing, shoulders shaking, fucking _hysterical_. Pinnacle of Saiyan strength. All he’d needed to do was feel fucking reduced to _nothing_ to achieve it. 

Of all the perverse transformations. Vegeta got himself under control, grinned sharp in Kakarot’s face. 

“Let’s see how you hold up now, Kakarot.”

* * *

Vegeta looked beautiful, and miserable, and Goku wished he could wrap him in a hug.

He knew that Vegeta would _hate_ it if he did that.

“Look,” he insisted instead, showing Vegeta proof of the transformation, his strength, his success. 

Golden. Glorious yet somehow looking _broken_ , and Goku was starting to understand that maybe strength, maybe winning, was bound up differently in Vegeta’s head than in his own. 

Then Vegeta revived, grinned, sharp and predatory and perfect, and Goku wanted nothing more than to taste this new strength of his. 

Vegeta exploded back into action like something freed from a cage, his strike against Goku’s raised arms sending exhilarating tingles. Goku spun to return the favor and then they were _dancing_ , both grinning, echoing each other effortlessly.

Kami, but Goku had _missed_ this. Hadn’t realized how _grim_ Vegeta’s fighting had become, compared to the raw power and grace that Goku had first fallen in love with on the day Vegeta landed here.

They left a trail of craters across the land, and Goku half-wondered that they didn’t have an audience yet, with the sheer power they were both putting off.

_Both_ of them. He’d known Vegeta could do it, been certain, but it was so _satisfying_ to see him like this. Powerful and free.

The dance came to an end with them locked against each other, arms braced, perfectly balanced. No room or give. 

Vegeta’s tail curled behind him, a taunt. He still had one limb free.

Then Vegeta _smiled_ , softer than usual, and returned his tail to his waist. Lowered his chin, amused and warm.

“We’re done for the day,” he said, echoing Goku’s words but with a _much_ better context. 

Goku relaxed, the fight done, and _finally_ leaned forward for a kiss.

* * *

Kakarot was _glorious_ , and Vegeta understood how he’d been able to beat Frieza in this form.

Thrilled in the knowledge that he himself would now be _able_ to. Felt something aching and miserable in him _release_.

Kakarot was _smiling_ looking genuinely thrilled that Vegeta had managed to transform. 

And he really fucking _meant it,_ didn’t he? There was no trick. There was only Kakarot, who had been excited for Vegeta’s new strength even before Vegeta himself had been able to feel it. 

They danced, cratering the planet, and Vegeta felt a bone deep certainty that Kakarot would pull ahead of him again. That it was simply his nature, to reach further, climb higher.

He felt an equally strong, but far more bizarre, certainty that Kakarot would _pull_ him. Would reach out a hand, invite himself in, smile and wheedle and _celebrate_ as Vegeta rose with him.

It was as alien as this planet, that another warrior would feel pride _for_ Vegeta. Would knowingly stand above him and want only for Vegeta to _catch up_. 

No condescension. Kakarot had limitless opportunity for it. Had never taken it. 

It would never be forthcoming.

Their flight ended, poised, muscles locked together, equal and opposing. Each with a hold on the other that couldn’t be broken. 

He could use his tail. Vegeta felt it behind him, smirked, thought of advantages.

Remembered Kakarot’s indignance the last time he’d pulled that trick, remembered how Kakarot had never used that weakness against Vegeta unless Vegeta brought his tail into play first.

Smiled at the memory, returned his tail to his waist.

“We’re done for the day.” How satisfying it felt to say that as a choice to end somewhere good, rather than to be forced to stop by a wall.

Kakarot loosened, no longer battle ready, utterly trusting Vegeta’s word that they were done fighting. 

Leaned in and kissed him.

Kakarot was always so _enthusiastic_. Vegeta pressed against him, licked into Kakarot’s mouth. Smirked against Kakarot’s lips as Kakarot _moaned_ , nothing held back. 

Vegeta’s tail slid around Kakarot’s waist, and it fucking _terrified_ him. 

Kakarot made a high pitched noise of disappointment as Vegeta pulled back, yanking his tail away. 

That was too intimate. That was something that Saiyans only did with someone they were truly serious about, would happily spend their _lives_ with. Vegeta wasn’t ready for _that_ , and he didn’t know why the fuck his tail kept _doing_ that. 

Twice now. What was _wrong_ with him?

“Vegeta,” Kakarot caught Vegeta’s shoulders before Vegeta could pull too far away. Vegeta growled, but let him. They were both Super Saiyan gold still, and it was starting to wear on Vegeta’s senses. He let the transformation drop, Kakarot following an instant later, their hair fading to black.

Abruptly, Vegeta felt _exhausted_. All of the physical and emotional drain of earlier events piling onto him as if delayed and waiting. 

“Vegeta,” Kakarot repeated, tightening his grip, eyes wide and pleading, “ _why_ do you keep pulling away like that?”

Was he? Vegeta cast back, realized he _was_. Three times now, each kiss, he was the one to pull away. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he snapped, because he _didn’t_. 

He couldn’t have given one anyway. 

“I know, but,” Kakarot slumped, sighed, shook his head. “Yeah. Okay.”

Then Kakarot raised his head, jaw squared, determined. As if preparing for a battle.

Ever so carefully brought one hand up to grasp Vegeta’s chin, tilting Vegeta’s head up and holding with just enough force that Vegeta would have to work to turn away. 

“I really like you, Vegeta,” Kakarot said, and Vegeta choked on nothing, unprepared for such openness. 

He had expected more, but Kakarot just smiled, released him. “Thought I should let you know.”

What the _fuck_ was Vegeta supposed to do with that?

* * *

Kakarot was being even fucking weirder today, so Raditz was getting the hell out of there. 

He was also _not_ looking for Vegeta. Was in fact _avoiding_ Vegeta. Had gone to a bar by himself rather than risk hunting through Capsule Corp for Zaril or Cala because he did not fucking want to _deal_ with Vegeta.

Vegeta had never willingly gone to a bar in his life, so far as Raditz knew, so he _really_ was not expecting Vegeta to follow him.

“There’s something wrong with your brother,” Vegeta said, before he even sat down. Raditz could smell alcohol on him already, strong stuff, way stronger than beer.

“What the hell have you been drinking?” 

Vegeta shrugged, sat in that boneless way that suggested he was _really_ drunk. “Something Bulma keeps in the cupboard.” 

Raditz clearly needed to spend more time at Capsule Corp. 

Vegeta stared at him, eyes not quite focused. “Do you like me?”

Raditz choked on his beer. “ _What_.”

Vegeta nodded. “That’s a much more sensible reaction.”

“Vegeta what the _fuck_ ,” Raditz said, experiencing a surprisingly strong urge to try strangling Vegeta again. 

“Sorry,” Vegeta said, and they both stared at each other in sheer bewilderment. 

“Is Kakarot contagious or something?” Raditz finally asked. 

“Must be,” Vegeta said, stealing Raditz’s beer glass. 

They didn’t _do_ this. Act like friends. Except they sort of did, sort of had when they were cubs, when the loss of their planet was fresh and they would find corners of the ship to curl in where no one would see them. Would whisper about things they missed, things that no longer made sense. Until they became too big to fit, and Nappa caught on, and cuffed Raditz and gave Vegeta a _talk_ about royalty and expectations and destiny. What his father had wanted for him.

Raditz caught the waitress’ attention to get another glass and another jug of beer. 

“He’s the one who beat Frieza,” Vegeta said suddenly, not long after the second glass had arrived.

“ _Kakarot_ was?”

But it made sense. How weird Vegeta had been acting. How he’d refused to talk about the fight. 

Kakarot had been really fucking vague about the details.

Vegeta was watching him. Looking for something. Raditz had no idea what. He grabbed the beer jug, topped up both their glasses, just for an excuse to look away.

“He went Super Saiyan,” Vegeta added, and Raditz choked on his beer. 

“ _Kakarot_ did?” But of course he did. Kakarot seemed to be built to do the impossible. 

Super Saiyan was what Vegeta had been meant to be. 

On second thoughts, Vegeta had been pretty fucking _stable_ , all things considered. 

“I did it today too,” Vegeta added, and Raditz remembered the sheer size of the ki he’d felt earlier when they were sparring, before Kakarot came home acting weird. 

“Congratulations?” Raditz would have expected him to sound proud, gloating, superior, about achieving Super Saiyan. 

But Kakarot had gotten there first. 

“Hey,” Raditz said, made reckless by how fucking weird Vegeta was continuing to be, “stop messing with my baby brother’s feelings. Once per family only.”

Vegeta looked genuinely shocked, and it occurred to Raditz that maybe he hadn’t fully understood just how unbalanced things had been between the two of them. 

Hopefully it’d stay that way.

“I’m _not_ —,” Vegeta started to say, and bewilderingly actually _stopped_ when Raditz glared at him.

“You are,” Raditz said, fully ready to press this unexpected advantage, “so quit it.” 

The quiet that followed was as bewildering as it was welcome. Raditz liked to imagine that Vegeta was actually contemplating what Raditz had said. For the first damn time in his life.

* * *

Goku was pretty sure that wrapping your tail around someone’s waist was the equivalent of saying ‘I like you,’ but saying that back with words _really_ hadn’t worked.

“Hi, Kami,” it had been so long since he’d been at the Lookout. Not since he’d been brought back from the dead. 

“Goku,” Kami greeted him, smiling. Mr Popo continued watering his flowers. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah,” Goku rubbed the back of his head, not sure how to ask, “you remember how you removed my tail?”

“Yes,” Kami’s face was always serious. “But Goku, there are… hazards… to restoring it.”

That transformation. That transformation that Goku _hated_. Hated to see on Vegeta, hated to think about on himself. Didn’t want to see Raditz do. “Yeah, I know. Don’t suppose you can just. Make it come back but not do that?”

“Hm.” Goku froze, hopeful, watched Kami actually consider the question, hand curled against his chin. “I suppose I may be able to modify the moon.”

“ _Modify?_ ” But if it would fix the transformation problem, Goku wasn’t complaining.

* * *

It was evening now, air cool against his skin as he walked back to Capsule Corp. Flying drunk usually did not go well.

Vegeta had expected Raditz to be _different_ when he learned that Vegeta had been beaten by Raditz’s baby brother, but no. All it did was make him marginally more irritating.

It shouldn’t have been such a fucking _relief_ , how little else seemed to have changed.

Bulma was sitting at the kitchen table when he walked in. “Oh, hey, you want pizza? I’ll get us some pizza.”

Vegeta did not have the faintest clue what pizza was. “Can you eat it?”

“ _Absolutely._ ” Bulma grinned, eyes bright, “oh, I am going to get _so many_ different flavors for you to try.”

Why was today so _weird?_

“Sit,” Bulma ordered, imperious as if she were royalty herself, pointing at a chair. Vegeta sat. 

“Did you have fun with Goku today?” Her tone was sweet. Vegeta half jumped back out of his chair before he realized that was a bad look. He sat back down, glaring.

“Uh huh.” Bulma smirked. 

Soli and Tor, he couldn’t take much more of this. First Kakarot’s declaration, then Raditz snapping about messing with his baby brother’s _feelings_ , and now Bulma was what, fucking trying to play matchmaker? 

“I could _disintegrate_ you,” he threatened, with very little hope that it would shut her up.

“But then who would make nice new battle gear for you, hmmm?” Bulma smiled back, utterly unafraid of him as always. 

He was saved by the pizza arriving.

Pizza turned out to be _delicious_. At least the planet had some redeeming features.


	30. Falling: Together

“Looking _good!_ ” Bulma grinned, examining Vegeta in the new battle suit she’d made. 

The blue fabric clung just a little bit more than the old version. A couple tweaks to the design.

“Hmmm.” Vegeta tested the stretch by kicking his leg up practically vertically, foot ending higher than his head, “feels similar to the old one.”

Kami but he was flexible. Bulma had put that to good use the other evening. 

_Off limits_ , she reminded herself. It was a little hard to remember not to flirt too hard when he stood here wearing nothing but the leggings she’d just finished fabricating, twisting this way and that to test the range of motion. His tail flicked behind him, relaxed, and Bulma understood enough about Saiyans to take that as a compliment. The lab was her space, but he knew enough for his subconscious to tell him that he was safe here.

“So, gonna test it out against Goku later today?” Goku had better thank her, for making such flattering new gear for his crush.

Vegeta’s tail twitched, betraying awkwardness, though his face remained still. “I suppose.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Bulma said, hiding a grin behind her hand as he glared at her, double meaning not lost at all.

* * *

The new battlesuit felt mostly right, resilient fabric with extensive stretch, but it felt _tighter_ than Vegeta remembered. How did that even make sense for something that was designed to stretch to accommodate an Oozaru?

He’d have to test that out at some point. Not today though.

Kakarot was waiting when he landed, smile warm and tail curving behind him, and Vegeta struggled to keep his embarrassment from showing on his face as he remembered how overly affectionate his own tail had been last time.

Wait. _Tail?_

“Your tail,” he said, shocked, and Kakarot’s face split into a wide and satisfied grin.

“Got it back,” Kakarot said, smug tone echoed by a pleased flick of his tail. 

That was— that was making Vegeta have some kind of feeling, but he couldn’t _identify_ it. He just felt warm, all over, fluttering in his stomach, nearly dizzy with it.

Kakarot stretched his arms over his head, and Vegeta’s eyes were drawn to the skin bared in the V where his blue tunic closed, the flex of muscles. 

And his _tail_. The little flicks and twists -- Kakarot was _flirting_ with him. Drawing his attention on _purpose_.

That wide grin still covered Kakarot’s face. Oh, but he was _pleased_ with himself. 

It abruptly occurred to Vegeta to worry what he was saying with his own tail. 

_Oh._ No wonder Kakarot looked so pleased. Vegeta’s damn tail had telegraphed his attraction loud and clear. 

Why was he still allowing his tail to _do_ that? He could simply return it safely to his waist, close himself off.

It felt like such a limiting option. 

“So, you ready to spar?” Kakarot asked, eyes bright, and Vegeta had a powerful urge to kiss him. 

_Too much_ , something screamed in the back of his head. 

There would be nothing safe, nothing _casual_ about kissing Kakarot. 

“Of course,” Vegeta responded, “we’re here to spar, after all.”

Kakarot nodded, playful still yet taking him seriously. “I’m all yours, Vegeta.”

Soli, but why did he have to put it like _that?_

* * *

Goku had never really attempted to flirt with someone before. Hadn’t really met anyone before Vegeta that he felt the need to. 

It was kinda fun, watching Vegeta react. That Goku could make him _flustered_.

He’d thought back on Kaneks, at first, that Vegeta would be angry if he noticed Goku was attracted to him. 

Goku had been _very_ wrong on that count. Thank Soli. 

His tail felt fresh and vulnerable behind him. Wonderful yet terrifying to have it back. 

Vegeta could _read_ it, Goku could tell, as easy as a human would read an expression on a face. No one had been around who could do that when Goku last had a tail.

It left him open. But then, that had been the point.

Thank Kami, literally, that it wouldn’t trigger any transformations. At least not on Earth, not from the Earth’s own modified moon.

They both tensed into their battle stances. Vegeta looked _good_ today, blue leggings that looked tighter than Goku remembered under a black tunic that left a delicious amount of skin bare. Hands still protected by his signature white gloves.

Goku licked his lips, and Vegeta smirked at him. 

They launched into motion, a clash of limbs. Goku kept his kaioken low for the moment, matching Vegeta. 

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, then he glowed.

Super Saiyan burst forth, and Goku saw Vegeta’s eyes widen for a moment, a flare of the emotional trigger echoing. Watched him exhale it back under control, come at Goku with perfect poise.

Goku changed as well, grinned as he felt the wave of power, the underlying rage long banked. Leaped to meet Vegeta, delighting in the exchange of blows.

It was even better than yesterday, this wave of motion, blows leveled and dodged and redirected. Today it felt settled, deliberate, somehow _comfortable_.

Goku could quite happily do this for the rest of his life.

But still, he liked to _win_. Vegeta launched a punch at Goku’s shoulder, and Goku saw opportunity there. Redirected just so, angling his leg against Vegeta’s to push Vegeta just that little bit off balance. Twisted, forcing the opening he’d created, until he’d slid behind Vegeta, arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing.

* * *

Tor damn him. How did Vegeta keep letting Kakarot gain his back like this?

“Yield,” he growled, frustrated. He’d win next time.

They both dropped out of Super Saiyan. Kakarot’s grip loosened, but didn’t release. Pressure around Vegeta’s waist, and he realized it was Kakarot’s _tail_ , sliding into that same damning embrace that Vegeta’s kept doing.

Vegeta’s own, traitorous, tail had slid to return the favor, wrapping first around Vegeta’s waist but ending at Kakarot’s back. They overlapped, circled each other. 

It felt like entirely _too much_. Vegeta tensed, ready to break away, tail still not cooperating. Lost control of his breath as well in a gasp, as Kakarot set his lips very deliberately to the base of Vegeta’s neck, an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth grazing Vegeta’s skin, short circuiting his thoughts. Kakarot repeated the motion, and again, moving up Vegeta’s neck. 

Kakarot was _purring_. Vegeta made a noise that he would never admit to making, leaned back into Kakarot instead of pulling away, arched his neck. Reached a hand up to tangle roughly in Kakarot’s hair, dragging him closer when he should have pushed him away. 

“Mmm.” Kakarot’s tone was contended, his lips on Vegeta’s jawline. His tail pressed closer, sliding against Vegeta’s own where they both crossed Vegeta’s waist, and there were too many _feelings_.

Hands against Vegeta’s waist too, just above his tail. Kakarot grazed his thumbs against Vegeta’s ribs, purred more when Vegeta fucking _gasped_ at it. Slid one hand up to dip inside Vegeta’s tunic, skin on skin. Vegeta twisted, trying to increase the contact and decrease it all at the same time. 

What had Kakarot _done_ to him? Vegeta was no stranger to sex, had plenty of practice keeping his control, his poise. 

But this. Kakarot expertly undid the tie on Vegeta’s gi, no doubt practiced from his own uniform. Let the white fabric of the tie drop to the ground.

He was being taken apart, bared. He couldn’t believe it was _allowing_ it. 

Kakarot pushed half of the tunic out of the way, Vegeta’s left side exposed, and their tails brushed his skin, matching bands. Vegeta shuddered, gasping, fingers tightening still further in Kakarot’s hair. His other hand hung loose, unpurposed, fist clenching and releasing.

Warmth, both of Kakarot’s arms wrapping around him, Kakarot’s nose pressed to Vegeta’s neck. “Say something, Vegeta.” A rough murmur, warm puff of breath on Vegeta’s skin, and Vegeta _wanted_ him.

Fucking Kakarot. His impossible softness and strength. So Soli-damned _persistent_. 

Vegeta twisted in Kakarot’s grip, brought them face to face, pressed chest to chest. Groin to groin, and they were both pretty damned hard already, for how little they’d actually done.

Braced his hands against Kakarot’s cheeks, protected still by his gloves. Looked into Kakarot’s dark eyes, searching for contempt, searching for disdain, for some kind of glee at this new form of victory, reducing Vegeta to a still-standing puddle.

Kakarot smiled, and all Vegeta could see was fathomless, genuine, affection. 

But Kakarot didn’t play that sort of dark game, did he? It was, impossibly, not in his nature. He was simply _good_.

As they twisted Kakarot had managed to slide his tail fully inside Vegeta’s gi, fur warm against skin around his waist, still squeezing.

It occurred to Vegeta, in a burning slide of feeling, that he could simply _have_ Kakarot. That what he wanted was in front of him, within reach, practically closing his grip for him.

Vegeta surged forward, pushing up on his fucking _toes_ , and brought their lips together, moving his hands to drag Kakarot down by the hair. Kakarot made a noise that was almost a growl, kissing back hard, urgent and wild against Vegeta, sloppy and open. 

He was too fucking _tall_. Vegeta pressed closer to get a better angle, was shocked to feel Kakarot’s hands against his ass, lifting. Kakarot easily braced Vegeta against his hips, holding him up.

Better. Vegeta wrapped his legs around Kakarot’s waist, leaned forward, arms sliding around Kakarot’s neck. Nipped and sucked at Kakarot’s lower lip, smirked at Kakarot’s groan. Rocked his hips against Kakarot to grind their erections harder together, and chuckled when Kakarot gasped and nearly dropped him. 

“ _Vegeta,_ ” Kakarot’s voice was desperate, and Vegeta hadn’t expected to _want_ this so much. 

“Yes?” Vegeta purred, pulling back enough to examine Kakarot’s expression. Flushed and panting, kiss bruised lips, and wasn’t _that_ a nice view.

Kakarot groaned, wordless, pressed their foreheads together, tightened his hands against Vegeta’s hips. That would certainly leave bruises.

Their tails were still tangled around each other.

Vegeta freed a hand to slid down Kakarot’s neck, the center point of his collarbone, to scrape nails against Kakarot’s skin. Watched Kakarot tip his head back, gasping. 

Felt Kakarot wobble, just slightly. A lesser man would have lost their balance by now, holding up Vegeta’s weight while facing such distraction.

“Put me down,” Vegeta ordered, swinging his legs free. Kakarot made a reluctant noise, but obeyed.

That was nice.

Kakarot’s tail caught Vegeta’s. They twined together. Vegeta’s breath froze.

A weak smile from Kakarot, worried. “Too much?”

“It was _always_ too much,” Vegeta said without thinking, then set his mouth to Kakarot’s jaw to distract him. 

Effective. Kakarot gasped, head tipping back, baring his throat for Vegeta. Easy for Vegeta to undo Kakarot’s gi, tug the fabric loose, push the tunic from Kakarot’s shoulders to pool on the ground.

There was so very much deliciously toned skin in front of Vegeta. He hesitated, decided, pulled his gloves off. Ran bare hands over Kakarot, and Kakarot gasped, moaned, pressed into him as if he’d been _waiting_ for this, for the gloves to come off. 

Kakarot should be naked. Vegeta tugged at the tie on Kakarot’s pants. Nudged his white boot against Kakarot’s black one to encourage Kakarot to push his shoes off. Clumsy like he never was, Kakarot complied. He was nearly trembling under Vegeta’s hands, their tails still twisted together, yet Kakarot was still trying to get _closer_.

Vegeta got the tie undone, pushed Kakarot’s pants and underwear down, away. Hands on now bare hips, tugging Kakarot to step towards him, leave the clothes tangled on the ground. Kakarot following as obedient as ever, one hand coming up to cover Vegeta’s own, the other hand settling on Vegeta’s shoulder, sliding under Vegeta’s loosened gi. 

Fingers grazing Kakarot’s chest, Vegeta stepped back, held them lightly at arm’s length. Kakarot watched him with slightly parted lips, waiting, hands curled loosely around Vegeta’s wrists.

He was _gorgeous_. Vegeta knew that, but here Kakarot stood, eyes heavy, cock standing proud, inexplicably unscarred skin laid fully bare for Vegeta’s viewing pleasure. 

Then Kakarot _smirked_ and stepped into Vegeta’s space again, folding Vegeta’s arms between them. Reached to push the gi off Vegeta’s shoulders, moved to slide his hands into Vegeta’s battle suit pants. The tunic tangled irritatingly around Vegeta’s elbows til he freed his arms, shook it off. Returned his hands to Kakarot’s skin, dragging nails against Kakarot’s back.

“Hey, did these get tighter?” Kakarot asked, then didn’t wait for an answer before he was moving _down_ , thumbs hooked into Vegeta’s waistband to drag both pants and underwear away. Vegeta inhaled sharply and braced his hands against Kakarot’s shoulders, _extremely_ distracted by the proximity of Kakarot’s mouth to his now bared cock.

Getting out of his boots at the same time as the fabric bunched around his ankles should have been awkward, but didn’t feel it, Kakarot wrapping each ankle in a successive caress as Vegeta leaned his weight on Kakarot’s shoulders.

Kakarot knelt naked before him, looked up at Vegeta with that warm smile. Vegeta shuddered, ran his thumb against Kakarot’s lower lip. Kakarot opened his mouth obediently, darted his tongue out to lick Vegeta’s thumb, and Vegeta groaned softly. Pressed down more, forcing Kakarot’s willing mouth open wider, shifted until it was his cock he could press against Kakarot’s tongue. 

They were clumsy, for a moment, Kakarot not seeming to know how to move. Vegeta tilted Kakarot’s head, slid in deeper, more slowly than he usually would. The fucking control it took, not to just _take_ what he wanted from the heat of Kakarot’s mouth. 

Kakarot’s tail curled around Vegeta’s ankle, twined up his calf, and Vegeta shuddered with desire even though they were barely moving.

How was Kakarot _doing_ this to him?

Vegeta rocked his hips forward, back, carefully. Kakarot shifted, trying to find a rhythm, clumsier than Vegeta had ever seen him. 

Then something seemed to _click_ , and Kakarot brought his tongue into play, pressing maddeningly against Vegeta’s length. Brought a hand up to wrap and twist just so against the base of Vegeta’s cock. Started moving with purpose, taking Vegeta in and releasing, cheeks hollowed, and the sheer attentiveness of it was _doing_ things to Vegeta’s control. 

Vegeta twisted his hands through Kakarot’s hair, purred, let Kakarot set the pace. Brought his tail up to wrap around Kakarot’s neck and _squeeze_ , just lightly, possessive. Shivered in delight when he felt Kakarot moan at the pressure, vibrations against Vegeta’s cock and tail, perfection.

Kakarot’s eyes were closed in concentration, long lashes against pale cheeks. His tail shifted against Vegeta, squeezing, caressing, and it was _maddening_. 

Pressure against Vegeta’s hip, Kakarot tightening his left hand even as he took Vegeta in again, even as he twined his tail up Vegeta’s leg to brush the delicate skin just behind Vegeta’s knee, and Vegeta groaned, came hard, shocked by the combined intensity of those little movements to _claim_ him.

Kakarot half-choked, then swallowed, and Vegeta vaguely wondered if he’d ever done this before. Felt himself folding, legs moving without permission, til he landed on Kakarot’s lap, knees spread over Kakarot’s, Kakarot’s cock still hard between them.

Satisfied smile lighting Kakarot’s face, that overly familiar tail winding around Vegeta’s waist again. “Gotcha.”

How dare he. Vegeta narrowed his eyes, dragged his nails lightly over Kakarot’s shoulders. Kakarot shivered, tipped his head back, baring his throat again.

Impossible to be annoyed at _that_. Vegeta leaned forward to bite at Kakarot’s neck, then slid off Kakarot’s lap, ignoring his whine of protest, the grasping of Kakarot’s tail.

“You’ll like this,” Vegeta told him, amused, as he swept his left arm down and to the side, rerouting the grip of Kakarot’s tail so that it curled around Vegeta’s wrist.

Kakarot smiled again, open and trusting.

Vegeta lowered his head to slide his lips around Kakarot’s cock, enjoying the weight on his tongue. Kakarot groaned, twisted his fingers through Vegeta’s hair, canted his hips up. Tightened his tail around Vegeta’s left wrist, Vegeta’s hand now braced against the ground for balance as he brought the other one up to wrap the base of Kakarot’s cock. 

The noises Kakarot was making were intoxicating. Vegeta moved with purpose, tongue flattening against the vein on the underside. Kakarot was gasping, hands nearly painful int Vegeta’s hair. Vegeta wrapped his own tail around one of Kakarot’s ankles, squeezed, returning a taste of the possessiveness from earlier. 

Kakarot came hard, so suddenly Vegeta almost didn’t swallow in time.

Vegeta pushed himself back upright, licked his lips. They stared at each other, naked and sticky, tails still clinging to each other’s limbs. 

A tip of Kakarot’s head, calculation. Vegeta frowned at him a little.

Kakarot smiled, just a tiny bit sharp around the edges, and leaned forward to gather Vegeta in a fucking _hug_ sliding Vegeta into Kakarot’s lap. Vegeta hadn’t even gathered breath to protest before Kakarot’s tail was curled back around Vegeta’s waist, Kakarot’s face buried in Vegeta’s hair even as Vegeta’s nose was pressed to Kakarot’s wonderfully muscled shoulder.

“I told you,” Kakarot said, squeezing even tighter with his tail, “okay?”

_”I like you,” Kakarot said, “just thought you should know.”_

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” Vegeta said, even as he brought his tail up curl around Kakarot’s waist in turn. Deliberately.

* * *

Kakarot came home smelling of sex. Of sex specifically with Vegeta. 

Raditz gave him an outraged look. 

“Uh,” Kakarot went bright red as he seemed to finally register that Raditz could _tell_ what he’d been up to this afternoon, “uh, sorry, I’m just gonna.”

He actually _sprinted_ towards the shower, and Raditz was forced to laugh.

It was a bit of a bitter laugh, but what the fuck.

A large swathe of apartment listings that he’d been thinking of as only average suddenly looked _really fucking appealing_.

“More city stuff?” Kakarot asked, reappearing much faster than expected, and Raditz nearly dropped his phone.

“Uh, yeah,” Raditz coughed awkwardly, “city stuff.”

Kakarot turned red again, and dove into the kitchen to start making tea. That was a kind of weird habit that he apparently had when he wanted to be _busy_ with something.

Should Raditz _ask?_ He didn’t want Vegeta stringing along his stupid baby brother, not with the way Kakarot wore his heart on his sleeve. 

It’d be pretty mean to try to ask Kakarot about that though. 

Maybe he’d go look at some of those West City apartments.

* * *

Vegeta _liked_ him. Goku was certain, now. The returned tail gestures, the way he hadn’t pulled away at the end, had _finally_ let Goku hold onto him.

Goku wanted to do it again. Immediately. Bury himself in Vegeta, wrap himself around that searing energy.

His skin had still felt sensitive as he scrubbed in the shower, delicious memory filtering in.

He still wanted, impossibly, _more_. 

Vegeta was prickly. He’d run if Goku asked too much at once. 

Goku could be patient. And he’d see Vegeta again tomorrow for sparring anyway.

He couldn’t _wait_.

* * *

When Vegeta opened his door, freshly dressed after finishing a very thorough shower, Raditz was fucking _waiting_ for him.

“What the _hell_ ,” Vegeta snapped, forced to tilt his head back to be able to see Raditz’s face. 

Hadn’t Raditz been in the habit of standing a bit farther back, before, so that it wasn’t constantly necessary for Vegeta to do that?

“Yo,” Raditz said, then walked forwards, so that Vegeta’s only options were to be backed into his room or move Raditz in the opposite direction by force.

He let himself be backed up. _Grudgingly_.

Raditz pulled the door shut behind himself. “So, you went ahead and fucked my baby brother.”

“He’s not a baby,” Vegeta said, feeling a very urgent need to address that point.

Raditz raised an eyebrow.

“It’s none of your _business,_ ” Vegeta growled, tail bristling, “why the fuck are you _here_.”

“Because you _fucked my baby brother_ ,” Raditz snapped, and he _had_ to be looming deliberately at this point, “what did I _just_ tell you, yesterday?”

“I’m not _messing_ with him,” Vegeta protested, feeling his face heat at the honesty of it. 

He hated that he _wasn’t_ playing. Whatever the fuck he and Kakarot were doing, it went deeper than anything Vegeta had let himself become involved in before. 

Enough that Vegeta had _chosen_ to return that intimacy with his tail. Had _enjoyed_ being on the receiving end of Kakarot’s warmth.

Was fully expecting that this would become just _one more fucking bizarre part of his life_ , now.

Was _hoping_ that it would.

They stared at each other. “Huh,” Raditz said after a couple moments, “well that’s new.”

Vegeta growled, pushed his ki out with enough force that Raditz stumbled back, _finally_ getting out of Vegeta’s space. “It’s _still_ none of your fucking business, Raditz.”

“Cool,” Raditz said, apparently now picking up Earth slang, “come look at apartments with me.”


	31. Falling: Expectations

_”Apartment hunting,”_ Vegeta repeated, as for some unknowable reason he actually followed Raditz, “ _why_ would you need me to go apartment hunting with you?”

What the fuck was going _on?_ Raditz came over, came out with that utterly embarrassing knowledge of Vegeta’s private life, then dropped it only to start making bizarre demands?

“You owe me,” Raditz responded sharply, and that, that was just completely fucking unfair. 

“Why do you even _need_ an apartment,” Vegeta grumbled, his entire field of vision filled by Raditz’s mane of hair. 

“Because I do _not_ want to deal with my brother coming home smelling like he’s fucked you every other day,” Raditz snapped, stepping sideways so that he was at Vegeta’s shoulder as they entered the living room.

Just as Bulma entered it from the door at the opposite end. 

Oh, perfect. Just what he needed, one more person sticking their nose in.

Kakarot’s openness was mortifying enough. Vegeta hadn’t even sorted out what to _do_ with it, the sheer warmth and affection that Kakarot seemed determined to heap on him.

What in the name of Soli was Vegeta supposed to do with the knowledge that he _liked_ being on the receiving end of Kakarot’s light? 

“ _Oh,_ ” Bulma said, eyes going very wide. Vegeta noted out of the corner of his eye that Raditz’s expression had morphed very rapidly to _oh shit_ , “oh, it’s really happening now huh?”

“Fuck _off_ ,” Vegeta growled. Bulma was grinning widely now, and that was _not_ a reassuring expression. 

Was she going to make a thing of it? Just because he’d had sex with her once didn’t make this her _business_. 

Bulma shrugged. “Just be glad you sorted yourselves out fast enough that I didn’t need to _help_.”

“ _What,_ ” Raditz and Vegeta both said, in one strangled and one outraged tone. 

“So apartment hunting huh?” Bulma said, changing the topic entirely, “I’d offer to help, but it’s not really my area of expertise. Maybe you could ask Yamcha if you get stuck?”

“Is he actually useful for something?” Vegeta asked, and Bulma snorted.

* * *

“Well those all sucked.” Raditz paged through his phone, removing apartments from saved lists.

“We’re getting food,” Vegeta said, ignoring what Raditz had said completely. He walked away, expecting Raditz to follow him.

Of course Raditz fucking followed him.

The food was something called pizza, and apparently Vegeta had already tried it. 

“Why didn’t I get any?” Raditz complained, shoving a slice in his mouth, “damn this is good.”

Cheese was great. Not that many planets had cheese. 

“You weren’t there.” Vegeta shrugged, mouth full, cheese on his face. He looked normal, blending in easily on this planet, loose jacket sitting comfortably across his shoulders. Raditz figured Vegeta would have no problem buying clothes that fit here, passing for an Earthling.

Earthlings apparently didn’t get quite as tall as Saiyans. Raditz was used to small spaces on the PTO ships, but this planet was _huge_ dammit, how hard could it be to find a place to live where he wouldn’t be hitting his head constantly? 

Though it was a lot harder on the buildings than it was on Raditz.

They were nearly out of pizza. Vegeta swiped the last piece. Raditz watched the sky getting night-dark over the skyscrapers, and figured he should head back to Mt Paozu soon. 

Vegeta was licking cheese off his fingers. Raditz snorted. “Not very royal there.” 

That glare was familiar. Was it a relief, to Vegeta, to be so anonymous on this planet? He’d been recognizable in the PTO, but not here. Here he could be anyone. No expectations. 

No Nappa either, for the moment. 

“Do you remember when we were little?” Raditz asked abruptly. Vegeta gave him a suspicious look.

“I mean, really little,” Raditz pressed, “remember when we used to sneak off, find the empty bits of the base?”

Vegeta grimaced. “Why would you bring _that_ up.”

“You think anyone on this planet gives a single shit, Vegeta.” 

Why the fuck was Raditz pushing this? But it felt so _heavy,_ having all these memories bubbling back up as he did fuckall on this overly peaceful planet. Not like he could talk to his Earth-soft family about how it felt to lose your whole damn home and have to act like you didn’t even care. How much that _ached_ , especially if you were just a damn cub. Sure as hell couldn’t talk about anything that’d make Vegeta sound soft to them.

“What _about_ it, Raditz.” Irritation dripped from every one of Vegeta’s words.

“Nothing.” Raditz lost his nerve. “Just. Wondered if it was only me that remembered.”

Vegeta pushed his glass back and forth, and Raditz remembered that kid who used to bite his nails when he was nervous. Had to start wearing gloves to hide it. Used to sit in that one safe corner of the engine room, tears held in, tail bristled, missing his parents, tiny under the weight of expectation. A couple years younger even than Raditz was, for all that overwhelming power and pride.

“You let Nappa think it was your idea,” Vegeta said, and Raditz was surprised that Vegeta had remembered that, how Raditz had taken Nappa’s anger at their childish behavior. Had watched Vegeta be marched away for a talk about how he was royalty, beyond such softness and emotion, vanishing in Nappa’s shadow.

“Yeah, well,” Raditz shrugged. 

What else was there to say, really?

* * *

Goku woke with the sun, same as always. Stretched, smiled, enjoyed the warmth spilling in the window. He’d left the curtains open for it. 

Did Vegeta enjoy lying in morning sunlight as much as Goku did? It would feel even nicer, lying here in the sun, if Vegeta was lying beside him.

Maybe soon. Goku was certain now that Vegeta _did_ like him the same way. The things they’d been telling each other with their tails, those had matched. 

Wow, but sex with Vegeta was good. Maybe they could do that again soon.

Goku was going to be _much_ more careful about making sure he’d cleaned up any scents before coming home next time.

* * *

When Goku walked into the kitchen after finishing his morning meditation, he noticed that it smelled _powerfully_ of alcohol. The source turned out to be a still open bottle sitting on the counter, clear liquid. It was half-empty.

Raditz had come home late last night. Goku located the lid, used it to stem the smell, shoved the bottle way to the back of the cupboard. Gohan was coming over later today, it wasn’t the kind of thing he should be finding by accident. 

They were running out of eggs. Maybe Goku could gather some this afternoon. Or maybe Raditz knew how to navigate a store better than Goku did? 

Cooking eggs reminded him of that morning at Kaneks, before the Ginyu force got there, when it had been just him and Vegeta for a bit. It had felt so comfortable. 

Maybe he could convince Vegeta to stay over? But it was hard to imagine, Vegeta in all his arrogance, standing here among the hand-made chairs and the mis-matched mugs. 

“Why are you up so _early,_ ” Raditz groaned as he stumbled into the living room, and Goku added a couple more reasons to his list of why Vegeta probably wouldn’t be over for breakfast any time soon.

“It’s not early,” Goku said, turning off the stove since the eggs were done, “it’s just morning.”

Raditz gave another overly dramatic groan, and flopped down at the kitchen table hard enough to make the chair creak alarmingly. Goku looked up to see that his brother had his face pillowed on folded arms, appeared to be just a giant clump of hair draped over the table. 

“You want food?” Goku offered, then bit back a laugh at how quickly Raditz revived, reaching out a demanding hand for a plate of eggs.

* * *

Vegeta paused in front of the mirror, the fog of condensation from his shower just starting to clear from it.

Kakarot had _marked_ him. Not the usual battle bruises. No, these were far more personal. 

That had never happened before. Couldn’t have. Before Kakarot, Vegeta had stuck to the unconscious rule of avoiding such intimacy with anyone stronger than himself, even equal to himself. It was far too dangerous. 

Kakarot continued to break all of Vegeta’s rules. 

He pulled on loose Earth clothes, track pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a high neck. Hesitated a long moment, left his gloves.

The building was empty, Bulma and her bizarrely friendly parents still sleeping. Time felt meaningless here. The clock told him it was 9am, which Vegeta thought was supposed to be one of the reasonable numbers. 

Food pulled from the fridge again to reheat, fresh coffee a luxury, so much more flavorful than the packages they’d been using on the ship. Vegeta ate standing at the counter, no one around to comment one way or another.

He’d spar with Kakarot later today. It made him fucking _nervous_ , and he hated that, this uncertainty around how to act in Kakarot’s presence now.

Kakarot was too easy, too open, too warm. Where was the catch hiding?

“Mmrrp?” said something near Vegeta’s ankle, as he leaned against the counter and enjoyed his coffee.

A small ball of black fur, gold eyes enormous. Bulma had called it a cat, Vegeta thought. 

It had the audacity to headbutt him, then pushed against his ankles, _purring_.

What the hell was up with this thing, and why did it seem to _like_ him?

There was still no one else around. Vegeta tipped his head, confirming the absence of ki, then crouched down, balanced on the balls of his bare feet to inspect the cat more closely. It made another little noise, batted one tiny foot curiously at Vegeta’s tail, looped loosely around Vegeta’s ankles. 

The creature had no sense of self-preservation at all. Vegeta moved a hand towards it, expected it to dart back, but the cat instead pushed happily into his fingers, rubbed its jaw against Vegeta’s thumb.

“Hey, stop scenting me.” Vegeta pulled his hand back, growling slightly. 

“That means he likes you,” Bulma said from behind him, voice teasing. 

Vegeta shot upright. How had he not noticed her coming in? He was getting so _sloppy_.

“His name is Scratch,” Bulma added, helping herself to some of the coffee that Vegeta had brewed, “he’s pretty friendly.” 

“Hm,” Vegeta said, sipping his coffee and trying to look intimidating. Scratch stood up on his hind legs to try to reach Vegeta’s tail again. 

“So how was apartment hunting?” Bulma laughed when Vegeta just grimaced in response. “That bad, huh?”

It wasn’t like either of them had any idea how to go about it. Though Raditz seemed to have figured out a surprising amount of the process.

Vegeta wished the hairball had continued to devote his energy to that, rather than bringing up things that could have just stayed buried. 

What was _with_ him lately? 

_Hand against Vegeta’s throat, hurt in Raditz’s eyes._

Vegeta shook his head sharply, dismissing the memory.

“Maybe we really _should_ get Yamcha in on it,” Bulma mused, apparently content to keep talking mostly to herself. Scratch had given up on his attempts to catch Vegeta’s tail and was now sitting leaned against Vegeta’s calf instead, warm and still purring. It was strangely soothing.

* * *

Goku landed, stretched, arms over his head. He’d failed to find a gi shirt without patches today.

Maybe he could just start off shirtless? Vegeta wouldn’t exactly _mind_ , right?

The spot Goku picked was closer to the river today, slow in parts and a rushing torrent farther down. That might be fun to play with as they fought.

And if it made clean up a bit easier after, well. That was good. Plenty of fish for lunch too.

Maybe he’d be able to convince Vegeta to sit and eat a meal with him. That would be nice.

A strong arm locked around his neck, cutting off his air. Goku gripped the wrist, ready to flip his attacker over his shoulder, then paused, grinned at the familiar ki and scent. 

It wouldn’t be easy to flip Vegeta.

“Were you _daydreaming_ , Kakarot?” Vegeta’s voice was amused in his ear. Goku leaned against him, pressing his back closer to Vegeta’s chest, brought his tail to twine around Vegeta’s thigh.

“I was thinking about you,” Goku teased, delighted by Vegeta’s sharp intake of breath, the tensing of muscle against Goku.

“Still careless,” Vegeta said after a beat, voice smoothed to mild disapproval, though Goku was certain he could feel Vegeta’s heart beating just a little harder than normal.

If it meant that Goku was going to get what was effectively a hug from Vegeta, daydreaming more often was starting to sound like a _great_ idea.

Vegeta’s arm was still around Goku’s neck, Goku’s hand lightly squeezed against Vegeta’s wrist. Goku rubbed his thumb back and forth and finally registered that Vegeta’s skin was bare.

“No gloves today, huh?” Goku explored further with his fingers, caressing the back of Vegeta’s hand, tracing the delicate bones between wrist and knuckle.

Smirked when Vegeta shivered. Yeah, he definitely had a thing about his hands being bare, and Goku was _really_ enjoying the potential implications of Vegeta showing up to spar today without bringing his gloves.

“I thought we were here to spar, Kakarot?” But Vegeta’s voice was slightly raspy, and when Goku rocked his hips back experimentally, Vegeta groaned. Goku licked his lips, certain now about the growing hardness he could feel against his ass.

“We could get a different kind of workout?” Goku asked, sweetly, keeping his tone light and innocent. Vegeta snorted, not fooled, and _finally_ set his lips to Goku’s neck, kissing, biting, delicious sensations that had Goku moaning.

He was never going to get tired of being able to touch Vegeta like this, of Vegeta wanting to touch him the same way in return.

Vegeta wrapped his tail around Goku’s waist, and Goku purred, reaching down his free hand to run light fingers against the fur.

A sharp intake of breath from Vegeta. Tensing, releasing, stepping back and pulling away. Goku turned, frowning, consciously forcing himself not to reach for Vegeta.

“Hey. Why’d you stop?” 

Vegeta regarded him for a long moment, bare hands balled into fists. His tail was tense, but still loose, fur slightly fluffed. 

“What next?” Vegeta asked finally. 

“I mean, I was figuring we’d take our pants off at some point.” Goku deliberately took the shallowest interpretation of the question.

Vegeta growled, tail lashing in frustration. “Not _that_. I know how _that_ works.”

“What’re you asking about, then?” Goku stepped forward, watched as Vegeta’s eyes flicked to Goku’s tail, drifting loose and relaxed. Another step and they were close again, enough for Goku to cautiously reach his tail out to curl against Vegeta’s hip. A question.

When Vegeta didn’t pull back, Goku took that as permission to step closer, bringing his tail fully against Vegeta’s waist, looping his arms around Vegeta’s back. Sighed happily when Vegeta let him, rested his head against Goku’s shoulder as if he were comfortable there.

“You understand what that means now, don’t you,” Vegeta muttered. 

“I already _told_ you,” Goku started, exasperated.

“That you like me, yes, I know,” Vegeta snapped, then winced and pushed his face harder against Goku’s shoulder. 

Being able to make Vegeta embarrassed was _great_. Goku buried his smug smile against Vegeta’s hair. 

“And that I want you to stay,” Goku added, hoping he wasn’t pushing too far.

“On Earth,” Vegeta said, and it was a good sign that though he’d tensed he hadn’t pulled away yet.

“Yeah.” Goku tightened his grip just a little. “On Earth. With me.”

That was the whole of it, really.

“ _With_ you.” Vegeta flattened his hands against Goku’s chest, pushing away enough that he could see Goku’s face. Goku smiled encouragingly. “What, as in live together?”

Goku grinned, though Vegeta looked deeply uncomfortable at having voiced that thought. “Yeah!”

“Hmm.” Doubt in every line of Vegeta’s face, muscles tense under Goku’s hands, but he was still there. Goku waited patiently, tail comfortably around Vegeta’s waist, hands on Vegeta’s shoulders, still smiling just a little.

Vegeta sighed, leaned forward slightly at the same time that he brought his tail up to wrap it around Goku’s waist.

_Yes_. Goku pressed his lips to Vegeta’s forehead, wrapped his arms around Vegeta’s shoulders in a hug.

“Not _immediately_ ,” Vegeta grumbled, “don’t go getting your hopes up, I’m not making _promises_.”

“Okay,” Goku said, utterly happy. “Wanna spar next?”


	32. Falling: Settling

Bulma peered at the landscape far below her jet plane. Mt Paozu always looked too pretty to be real, mountains and trees and rivers peacefully assembled like something from a tourism brochure.

Though come to think of it, those places must be real too, captured and stored away in the photos.

Goku’s house was cute, and Bulma was glad that ChiChi hadn’t even hesitated to leave it to Goku when they split. It was technically more ChiChi’s, a gift from OxKing, but Goku was the one who seemed to always have a greater attachment to it, his own little space under the mountains. Bulma wondered if it reminded him of growing up with his grampa.

“Heyyy” Bulma called as she landed, scanning the joined together buildings for signs of life. Vegeta had come back from sparring, which meant Goku should be home right?

She still couldn’t believe Goku had _built_ some of those pieces of the house in front of her, extensions on the original standard dome as his little family got bigger. 

Then smaller again.

“Hey, Bulma!” Goku was pushing open the door, grin wide, hair ruffled. Weirdly wearing a button up shirt instead of a variety of gi.

“Is there an occasion?” She flicked one of his buttons, watched him squirm. 

“No, I just gotta figure out how to buy more clothes, Vegeta’s hard on ‘em.”

Bulma felt her eyes widen, and Goku seemed to actually realize he’d said something weird, which was pretty major progress for him.

“In sparring! With ki blasts!” Goku held up both hands with a slightly panicked expression, and Bulma grinned.

“Uh-huh,” Bulma gestured for him to follow, walked back to her plane, “well, lucky you, I actually did bring more clothes in this month’s supply drop.”

As well as some other fun stuff.

Goku stood and let her loop bags over his outstretched arm, and Bulma was once again distantly impressed by his strength as she loaded him up. “Thanks for bringing all this stuff, Bulma.”

She was such a good friend. Good of him to at least notice it. “No problem. Oh, and this one,” she held up a bag that was blue, unlike the rest of the regular white grocery bags, “this one has some fun stuff, maybe keep it in your bedroom? I bet Vegeta knows what to do with it.”

“Uh,” Goku said, suddenly turning _very_ red, and it occurred to Bulma that maybe he actually hadn’t realized that Raditz had tipped her off to the progress Goku had made on that crush of his.

* * *

Bulma was sitting at the table with Kakarot and Gohan. Raditz gave a half-hearted wave, started to duck past to what was currently serving as his room. 

“Hey, how’s the apartment hunting going?” Bulma asked, and Raditz froze. 

“Uh.” He risked a cautious glance behind him. Kakarot’s face was completely blank, and wasn’t it fucking weird that he could do that when he wanted to. Gohan looked slightly puzzled, but not upset. 

Not too bad to be working with.

Raditz shifted his weight awkwardly, realized Kakarot was paying very close attention to his nervously flicking tail. 

Well shit.

“Could be better,” Raditz hedged.

“Can I do anything to help?” Gohan asked, and Raditz was irrationally reminded of his own mother, wide eyes and messy hair, soft voice kind as she tried to soothe whatever hurt he had even if she didn’t understand it all. 

He had probably been younger than Gohan was now when he’d lost her. The whole planet. Hard to tell what his age would be in Earth years.

“Dunno, kid,” Raditz raised an eyebrow, “you got any experience apartment hunting?”

“Yeah,” Gohan said unexpectedly, “I looked with mom for a place in West City, after, um.”

The room went the bad kind of silent. Kakarot’s face remained too carefully blank.

“Right,” Raditz said, trying not to think too hard about how he was yet another person moving out and leaving Kakarot alone in this house, “that’d, uh, be good then. To have help.”

Gohan nodded seriously, and Raditz could almost see the kid starting to make lists in his head. 

Bulma was glancing between Kakarot and Raditz with narrowed eyes. “Goku. Raditz _did_ tell you he was apartment hunting, didn’t he?”

Raditz held his breath. Kakarot shrugged, brought up a hand to rub at the back of his head, gave an awkward laugh.

Didn’t rat him out to Bulma’s piercing blue gaze. Raditz guessed he should thank him for that.

* * *

Three people around the table for dinner again, and Goku found himself smiling, watching Raditz’s attention to Gohan’s description of what he was up to in school these days. From the occasional questions Raditz asked, Goku thought he was understanding a lot more of the story than Goku ever did. 

Gohan looked so _happy_ , sitting here with family and talking about his studies, and Goku felt a sharp ache that his gentle son had spent so much time on the front lines of a battle that shouldn’t have been his. 

They finished eating, and Gohan moved to help him with the dishes. “Take a break, Gohan,” Goku smiled, put just a little bit of teeth into as he glanced at Raditz, flicked his tail in challenge, “you should let you uncle get some practice doing things like dishes, ‘fore he’s in his own apartment.”

Raditz looked deeply guilty, and Goku smirked for a moment before turning back to clearing the table. When he next shot a glance at his brother, Raditz’s expression had turned indignant, tail slightly bristled. 

“Okay!” Gohan smiled, blissfully unaware of the second conversation that Goku and Raditz were currently having, “um, I’ll just be in my room? There’s a book that I was partway through..,”

“Sure, have fun with it!” Goku ruffled Gohan’s hair, got a hug in return, watched his son happily bound towards his own bedroom. Genuinely relaxed for the first time in a long time, with no more PTO threat looming over them.

“So you _are_ mad,” Raditz said, resuming their second conversation as soon as Gohan was out of earshot, “or upset, or something.”

Goku shrugged. “Or maybe I just meant what I said. You’re gonna have to learn how to do dishes at some point. How to cook and stuff, too.”

Raditz leaned against the half-wall separating the kitchen from the dining space, eyes narrowed. Goku finally clicked that Raditz was wearing more city-style clothes, jeans and button-up, not stuff that he’d have been able to spar in. The button-up looked a little strange on him, at odds with his wild mane of hair. Probably the jeans weren’t meant to be quite so tight, either.

He’d been wearing something like that the other day when he left, too. Had been spending an awful lot of time looking through things on his phone for a while now. City things.

“You’ll be fine, right?” Raditz said, and Goku paused in scrubbing one of the dishes, trying to figure out what that followed on from.

They both stayed silent for a beat, each trying to figure the other out. Raditz sighed, clarified. “By yourself, I mean.”

“Oh.” Was Goku that transparent lately? People normally didn’t worry about him getting lonely. But then, he’d said all that stuff the day in the bar. Alcohol really was not a good thing, Goku was thinking.

That reminded him of the bottle he’d shoved in the cupboard this morning. “Are _you_ okay?” 

He still wasn’t sure what the hell had been happening or not happening between Raditz and Vegeta.

Raditz flinched, tail twitching towards his waist to hide. Goku frowned, gestured openness with his own tail. Watched his brother shake his head, tail now fully curled and hidden.

“It’ll be good to have my own space,” Raditz said after a moment. “Never had the chance before, you know?”

Goku thought about the cramped ship, the narrowness of the space stations they’d boarded to sabotage. “Is it weird? Being done with the PTO.”

A long moment of silence from Raditz. Goku kept working his way through the dishes, patient. 

“Yeah,” Raditz said eventually, “but, good weird, y’know?”

Something in his voice made Goku turn, pull his hands out of the water. Raditz looked lost, staring blankly out the dark window. 

“There was just so much _shit_ ,” Raditz said, voice getting rougher, “there was no time to think about it, we were always just _surviving_.”

Goku crossed the small distance between them, caught Raditz in a hug. It was a bit of a stretch, getting his arms around his brother’s bulk, especially with all that hair. Raditz tensed, then hesitantly patted Goku on the shoulder. Acknowledgment. 

“Do what you need,” Goku said, squeezing, “you’re still my brother either way. Come back anytime, I’ll even keep some beer around for you.”

Raditz’s grip tightened abruptly, large hand borderline painful on Goku’s shoulder.

“And expect visitors at that apartment,” Goku smiled, though Raditz wouldn't be able to see it, “I bet Gohan isn’t going to let his favorite uncle get out of talking about books anytime soon.”

“Right,” Raditz said, sounding scratchy, and Goku squeezed him a little tighter, felt that constant background relief at being _able_ to use a bit of actual strength when it came to his brother, “right, I’ll just. Expect you both to keep on being pests, then.”

“Count on it,” Goku reassured him, not loosening his grip in the slightest, and felt pure relief when Raditz finally relaxed slightly, nodding so that his chin brushed the tips of Goku’s hair.

They were family, dammit, and Goku wasn’t letting go of his brother now that he knew he had one.

* * *

She couldn’t _believe_ that Raditz hadn’t said anything to Goku about his apartment hunting. Bulma stabbed at the keyboard with more force than necessary, glaring at the spaceship schematics in front of her. 

If she tweaked the power outputs there, and streamlined that just there, she should be able to make it go _faster_. She’d need to compensate by upping the resilience of those bits over there, or they’d start to wear out under the strain.

There was a _lot_ that could be improved on in the PTO spaceship designs. Even if there wasn’t a practical application right now, Bulma felt certain that they’d want to be able to travel quickly and safely through space again at _some_ point.

Her lab’s door swished open to reveal Vegeta, sweaty and shirtless. “The gravity room’s giving that damn error code again.”

Probably still the alternator. She’d fix it tomorrow, on her own time. “Why are you even still _awake_.” 

It was 2am. Normal people were asleep by now. 

“You’re also awake,” Vegeta pointed out, crossing the lab and squinting at the screen. “Is that a spaceship?”

Neither one of them were normal, were they?

“Yeah, it’s a spaceship. Any tips?” She was mostly joking, but he’d surprised her before.

Vegeta shrugged. “Make sure it has enough bedrooms.”

Bulma snorted. That was actually a fair point. The ship would need to be pleasant to occupy, as well as being fast. Easy to forget for flashes of time, when she buried herself in the engine design.

“So when are you moving out?” She asked, and grinned when he jumped, tail fluffling.

“Did he _say_ something to you?” Vegeta demanded, and huh, had he really already had an actual conversation with Goku about that? It would be unexpectedly reasonable of them both.

“No, but neither one of you is as subtle as you think you are,” Bulma told him, still grinning. 

Vegeta grumbled and just about stomped his foot, and stormed out trailing demands for her to fix the gravity room faster.

_Typical_. None of the men in her life appreciated her enough, even the interesting ones. 

Yamcha had told her that the spaceship designs were a waste of time. As if it wasn’t her own damn time, her own damn genius that had helped them _get_ to this point. Fooling the PTO long enough for their Saiyans to overpower it. 

Maybe she needed to start looking harder for a new man. Or woman. Or neither, and just _be_ for a little bit, doing whatever the heck she felt like. 

She was the genius who’d helped save their planet, and beyond. No way in hell did she need to _settle_.


	33. Stay for a while

Vegeta woke slowly. Blinked at the sunlight spilling across him. Sighed, turned his face further towards his pillow.

His pillow was warm skin, a steady heartbeat. Kakarot’s bare chest under his cheek, comforting scent surrounding him. 

Kakarot’s hand, tangled lightly in Vegeta’s hair. A slight pressure around Vegeta’s waist that he identified as Kakarot’s tail, curled around Vegeta as it often was these days.

“Mornin’.” Kakarot’s voice was low, lulling Vegeta into further relaxation. Warm fingers finding his, curled against Kakarot’s abdomen, and Kakarot was slowly pulling Vegeta’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

He was so _sappy_. Vegeta’s fingers tightened, closer to a fist, as he pressed his nose against Kakarot’s skin, hiding his face.

Kakarot prised Vegeta’s fingers open, pressed a kiss to his palm next, and Vegeta felt himself flushing, an entirely disproportionate reaction. 

“You know,” Kakarot said, still keeping claim of Vegeta’s hand, pressing more kisses to his skin, his palm, his wrist, moving to lightly suck one of Vegeta’s fingers into his mouth, and _fuck_ that shouldn’t be so hot, “we still haven’t tried out those supplies Bulma left us.”

_Rain pouring, chilling him after the spar, turning the dust on his clothes instantly to mud. Kakarot laughing, delighted, spinning with outstretched arms to play in the deluge of water._

_“Aw come on Vegeta, don’t you think it’s fun to get wet sometimes?” Kakarot’s wide grin, utterly undampened, “hey, come back to my house after, dry off.”_

He wasn’t sure Kakarot had actually expected him to _agree_. The look of sheer delight on the fool’s face had done strange things to Vegeta’s stomach.

Kakarot shifted, rolling them over. Sat up to straddle Vegeta, thighs spread over Vegeta’s hips. Vegeta traced his eyes across Kakarot’s skin, licked his lips. Sharp teeth, a grin, Kakarot enjoying the attention. 

“Hey, Vegeta.” Kakarot rolled his hips, grinding deliberately against Vegeta’s growing erection, smirked when Vegeta groaned, “hey, can we?”

He was utterly shameless, and it always _did things_ to Vegeta’s self-control.

_They pushed through the door, Kakarot half-dragging Vegeta with an arm around Vegeta’s shoulders, his heat seeping through their soaked clothes. Dripped water on the floor, and Kakarot laughed, said it was a good thing there was no-one else around to care about the mess, started peeling his clothes off and dropping them carelessly to the floor as soon as they were inside. Stood naked and confident, grinned, and tugged at Vegeta’s own soaked clothes, encouraging him to follow suit._

The mess must still be lying where they’d left it the night before. Vegeta’s stray thought was very quickly pulled away when Kakarot bent to suck a bruise to his collarbone, hands sliding against Vegeta’s ribs. 

_They stood in the shower, hot water washing off the mud, and Kakarot lifted Vegeta easily against the wall, made that face like he wanted to devour him._

Kakarot was moving down Vegeta’s body now, and Vegeta shivered, anticipation of Kakarot’s hot mouth on him again. Remembered the bag Bulma had left.

“I thought you wanted to try something new, Kakarot?”

Intensity in those dark eyes, Kakarot raising himself back up, hungry. “ _Yes._ ”

Vegeta rolled sideways, Kakarot grumbling and shifting to let him. The drawer of the nightstand stuck slightly before Vegeta got it open, pulled out the lubricant that now lived there. 

_Kakarot’s clothes didn’t fit well, and Vegeta made a face as the borrowed t-shirt tried to slide right off one shoulder. A warm chuckle, Kakarot sneaking up behind him to press a kiss to the exposed skin._

_“Oh, hey, Bulma left a bag here a couple weeks ago?” Kakarot’s arms slid around Vegeta’s waist, pulling him closer, “she said you’d know what to do with the stuff in it.”_

Bulma had made a similar delivery to Vegeta’s room. What did she expect him to do, pack a damn backpack of supplies next time they met for sparring? 

Kakarot was eyeing the bottle in Vegeta’s hand with extreme interest. Vegeta rolled onto his back, reached down to push his borrowed, too loose, boxers away. Kakarot reached down a hand to help, taking the opportunity to scrape his nails lightly against Vegeta’s inner thigh, and Vegeta found himself arching up, moaning. Dragged his nails down Kakarot’s broad chest in retaliation, scraping hard enough to leave red marks, and Kakarot groaned and leaned into him.

He looked good, like that. Leaning over Vegeta, flushed and panting, trying to press in closer.

Vegeta licked his lips. He could work with that.

* * *

Vegeta licked his lips, and Goku was going to go crazy if they kept moving this slowly. 

“ _Vegeta,_ ” he insisted, leaning down to bite at Vegeta’s lower lip, groaning again as the motion pressed his erection to Vegeta’s abdomen.

“Yes, Kakarot?” Vegeta sounded smug. Returned the kiss with teeth as sharp as Goku’s, tantalizingly close to drawing blood. Moved the hand not holding that bottle to scrape his nails _hard_ down Goku’s back, and Goku hissed, pressed closer, delighting in the sting of it.

Vegeta hooked his fingers in the waistband of Goku’s boxers, tugged down. Couldn’t get a good angle. Goku shifted, reluctantly lifting away from Vegeta, forced to stop straddling him for long enough to get his damn clothing off.

Wasn’t expecting Vegeta to shift, in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if he wasn’t so wonderfully flexible, until Goku was bracketed by Vegeta’s knees, and wasn’t _that_ an interesting position. 

“Mmm,” Vegeta said, licking his lips again as he reached to grip Goku’s erection, and Goku gasped at the slide, something slick coating Vegeta’s hand. Must be what was in that bottle.

Goku was _really_ hoping this was going where he thought it might be going.

“Hand,” Vegeta said, grabbing Goku’s right hand when he didn’t move fast enough, pouring more of that slippery stuff on it, spreading it until Goku’s fingers were slick with it. 

Goku curled his tail around Vegeta’s ankle, caught himself panting, trembling slightly with the need to be _closer_. Vegeta smirked at him, wrapped his own tail around Goku’s forearm, used both the tail and his hand to push Goku’s hand where he wanted it.

This was _definitely_ going where Goku had hoped it was. He slid the first experimental finger into Vegeta’s ass, slowly pushing it all the way in as Vegeta made noises of encouragement. Shifted it, trying different angles, and there, _that_ was a motion that got a delicious noise, and that one there too. Vegeta twisted and purred, tail sliding along Goku’s arm, and Goku added a second finger, then a third, couldn’t quite believe Vegeta was still _encouraging_ him, asking Goku to spread him open.

“Enough preparation, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, rolling his hips for emphasis, and that was all the explanation Goku needed to slide his fingers out, replace them with his cock. Pushing in slowly, delightfully, closer.

They both gasped. It was perfect, the heat, the tightness, and Goku moaned, leaned forward, slid deeper in, thoughts incoherent.

“ _Move,_ Kakarot,” Vegeta growled, twisting his fingers through Goku’s hair hard enough to hurt, looping a leg behind Goku to dig a heel into Goku’s back. Arching against Goku, insistent, tail now settled perfectly around Goku’s waist.

_This._ This was _exactly_ what Goku had wanted and not had a shape for.

He moved, thrusting, in and out, thriving on the breathy noises Vegeta was making, encouragement and demands, pants and growls. Thought of nothing but how they fit together, bodies curving to pull pleasure from each other, finally as close as Goku had always wanted to be.

Vegeta groaned again, head thrown back, throat bared, one gloveless hand sliding nails down Goku’s neck, and Goku adored him, felt the warmth of trust mingle with the intensity of everything else flowing through his veins.

A tug at Goku’s wrist, Vegeta encouraging Goku to wrap a hand around Vegeta’s cock as they moved, and _oh_ that got even _better_ noises.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta breathed, perhaps not even on purpose, and Goku gasped and came hard, shuddering against Vegeta. Felt Vegeta reach his own release at the same time, and that, that really was perfect, and Goku purred his happiness into Vegeta’s neck as he sprawled across him, sticky and spent. 

“Vegeta,” he said, trying to infuse that word with the impossible jumble of warm emotions he was feeling, wrapping his tail around Vegeta’s waist as tightly as he could with the mattress in the way, and he felt Vegeta shiver, breathless. Goku purred even more, kissed the column of Vegeta’s neck, delighted in Vegeta’s arm wrapping around his back, nails digging into Goku’s skin, holding him there.

_Perfect_ , Goku decided again, nuzzling up against Vegeta’s chin and hoping they could just _stay_ like this for a while.

* * *

Kakarot was cooking breakfast. Vegeta leaned against the bedroom doorway for a moment, freshly showered and in a different set of poorly fitting clothes, and simply watched him. The warm smile, the relaxed tail, occasionally flipping happily when Kakarot had an especially good thought, the ease of his movements in this space that was his.

_Stay with me,_ he kept telling Vegeta, and now that Radtiz had found himself an apartment, Vegeta was running out of reasons not to.

Kakarot turned and met Vegeta’s eyes, grinned like Vegeta had made his entire day just by standing there, and Vegeta felt uncomfortably hot on the receiving end of all that affection.

“Food’s nearly up,” Kakarot said, sounding content, and Vegeta managed a vague noise of acknowledgement. 

It wouldn’t be so _bad_ would it? To stay.


	34. Stay and grow together

The river sparkled, sunlight off blue blue water. Goku sighed happily, rubbed his cheek against Vegeta’s thigh, squeezed his hand against Vegeta’s knee. 

He still couldn’t quite believe that he had been permitted to rest with his head in Vegeta’s lap. A month ago Vegeta definitely wouldn’t have gone along with it.

“If you keep fidgeting, I’ll make you move,” Vegeta threatened, though his tail looped over Goku’s waist only curled closer. 

“Mmm.” Goku stilled, except to squeeze his own tail against Vegeta’s ankle. 

They’d have to move at some point, but Gohan wouldn’t be here for a while yet. He was spending his morning at Raditz’s place. A new tradition to keep up their old tradition from the spaceship, sitting together and sharing learning.

Vegeta was tangling his fingers in Goku’s hair, and that felt nice. Goku purred, and Vegeta tugged a little harder. If that tug was meant to be a reprimand, it really wasn’t working.

“You said you just wanted to sit by the river,” Vegeta said, voice laced with amusement, “but you keep trying to start something else.”

“Do not,” Goku protested, “this is perfect.”

Vegeta’s hands stilled against Goku’s hair for a moment before he resumed the movement. 

A month made a _lot_ of difference. Vegeta was, gradually, getting less prickly.

Neither one of them had been expecting the nightmares to start. Vegeta seemed even more surprised than Goku, insisting he’d never had them before. Goku believed him, but that didn’t change the painful reality of Vegeta startling awake in the night, panicked, having no idea where he was.

Goku thought back to that conversation with Raditz, about how they’d been so caught up in just surviving, and wondered if the peace now was hard on Vegeta in some ways.

“Are Cala and them staying?” Goku realized he hadn’t heard anything in a while about the other ex-PTO members.

“They’re heading to Zaril’s home planet to help with reclaiming it.” Vegeta’s tone was distant, probably thinking about his other life. “They wanted us to help, actually.”

“Really?” This was the first that Goku had heard of it. “Will there be fun strong people?”

Vegeta snorted. “No. Just a lot of weak boring ones. You’d hate it, that kind of melee fighting. No more interesting than cutting wheat.”

Goku frowned, not liking the reminder of how little thought Vegeta had put into snuffling out lives while he was in the PTO. Still did, if Goku was uncomfortably honest with himself. Although at least he hadn’t _actually_ murdered anyone since getting to Earth, even if he’d come close in the grocery store the other day.

“That will probably be happening everywhere,” Vegeta’s voice cut into Goku’s thoughts, contemplative, “with Frieza gone, there’s bound to be a free for all happening everywhere that he held power.”

A lot of people would be dying, Goku translated, feeling his stomach twist. 

But was it his place to help even if he could? A strong opponent, sure, but just fighting as some kind of soldier? Goku didn’t think he was suited for it, and he sure as hell didn’t want Vegeta and Raditz feeling pushed back into it when they’d just gotten out of something like that.

“Do you think it’ll touch Earth?” Goku asked, burying questions about whether Vegeta would ever consider heading back out to those kind of front lines, how he’d choose which side to fight on even if he did.

“No,” Vegeta sounded confident, “we’re too far out from the center, not worth the trouble for anyone to try to claim.”

And that, that was progress, wasn’t it? That when Vegeta spoke of Earth, it was his too, as well as Goku’s.

“Mm.” Goku resumed what Vegeta was calling fidgeting, rubbed his thumb in circles just above Vegeta’s knee. Felt tension bleed out of Vegeta, tension that Goku hadn’t even noticed him gathering. “Guess we get to keep focusing on surpassing each other, then.”

Vegeta didn’t say anything, but his tail tightened slightly again against Goku’s waist, and Goku liked to imagine that he was smiling.

* * *

His phone rang. Goku turned from cutting vegetables, handed the knife off to Gohan when he reached for it.

“Krillin!” That’s what the screen had said anyway.

“Goku, hey,” it was still weird but nice to hear his friend’s voice over the phone. Not an emergency communication or anything, just trying to keep in touch a little better. “Yamcha’s got a big game next week, you coming? Tien will be there too, and Launch.”

Not Bulma, Goku noted from the list. She’d seemed pretty fed-up with Yamcha, after getting back from their adventure in space.

“Yeah! I’ll, uh, just go to where you are in the afternoon?” Goku was still terrible with timekeeping. Vegeta had actually started pulling at his own hair in frustration the last time he tried to explain the function of an alarm to Goku.

Krillin laughed. “Yeah, just, I don’t know, come on over after the sun reaches its highest point or something?”

Another side-effect of Goku’s outburst in the bar a couple months ago was that Krillin seemed to be trying a lot harder to put things in terms that fit with Goku’s head. Never mind that the timekeeping stuff wasn’t a Saiyan quirk, Vegeta and Raditz had no trouble with it. It was just nice, that instead of giving up on trying to get Goku places on time, there was a way to work around it.

“Sure thing, Krillin.” Goku grinned. “I’ll see you on, uh. What day?”

Gohan had nearly finished cutting the vegetables by the time Goku got off the phone. He pointed the knife somewhat threateningly at the calendar, reminding Goku briefly of his mother. Goku hurried to scribble down the baseball on the correct day before he forgot again. Wait. What day was it today, even?

“Is that another thing I’m supposed to remember for you?” Vegeta let the door clatter behind him. Just back from his gravity training at Capsule Corp, and he sounded grumpy.

“Sort of?” Goku turned, smiled at him. Vegeta folded his arms and attempted to continue to look grumpy, but Goku could tell from his tail that he was actually happy to be home.

“Hi, Vegeta,” said Gohan from the kitchen, and they were all awkwardly silent for a moment.

Gohan hadn’t been disapproving, exactly, of Goku’s relationship with Vegeta, which they didn’t even have a good word to _describe_. Vegeta detested every one of the words Goku had suggested. ‘Boyfriend’ too ‘juvenile’, ‘partner’ too vague. Goku didn’t really like the word ‘mate’, it felt too far off what an Earth-person would use.

Disapproving no, but Gohan and Vegeta were tense around each other on the weeks that Gohan stayed, and Goku hadn’t yet figured out a way to ease that tension. It left a dark spot, knowing that his son didn’t feel quite as comfortable in his home anymore.

“Hi,” Vegeta said, startling possibly all three of them. Goku gave him another smile, glad that Vegeta seemed to at least be trying. Vegeta turned away to stare out the window.

“Um, Raditz sent a letter?” Gohan added, sounding confused, “it’s written in Sadalan, I think. On the table there.”

Goku had been wondering what that bit of paper was for. Vegeta scooped it up, read a few lines, made a very odd expression. 

“What’s it say?” Goku leaned over his shoulder, but couldn’t make out any of it. His Sadalan knowledge was spoken only

“None of your business.” Vegeta twisted away, even though he must have known Goku couldn’t read it anyway.

Raditz and Vegeta seemed simultaneously comfortable and awkward around each other these days. Sometimes they acted like old friends, which Goku guessed they _were_ , they’d known each other even longer than Goku and Krillin had. Other times they were snappish, digs that seemed meant to hurt, and Goku would probably never understand the full complexity of whatever had been going on with them before Earth.

Vegeta had spent a _very_ long time needling Raditz in Sadalan after Raditz accidentally let it slip that since moving to the city he’d had a rapid succession of new partners since moving to the city.

“Osti, shkon e natka a tsuke?” Gohan said, and Goku and Vegeta both jumped. Gohan grinned. “Zitja Raditz e Sadalan a chemt aketz.”

“Zhu’tbat, Gohan!” Goku grinned. “Sohn ni rent’zu’ke?”

“Hou!” Gohan looked delighted. Goku shot a sideways glance at Vegeta, saw that his expression was much softer than usual. 

Dinner was loud that day, Gohan excited to keep learning, and Vegeta seeming excited to watch him do it. Goku smiled, watching, as Vegeta explained a Sadalan term to Gohan with no hint of condescension, forgetting to act superior with something he was so genuinely happy to share.

ChiChi had sent along a box of fresh-made cookies with Gohan for dessert, and it was like that phrase the icing on the cake. To finish dinner with the reminder that families could be all sorts of shapes and still care for each other.

* * *

Goku shut the smokehouse door, licking his lips at the scent of meat. 

He’d learned it was best to do this when Vegeta was off doing gravity training, otherwise he’d try to eat it all immediately instead of waiting.

“Hi, Piccolo,” he said, still facing the door, picking up the familiar ki behind him

“Goku,” Piccolo greeted. Goku turned around, found Piccolo as hard to read as ever. 

Someday it would be fun to make it to planet Namek, meet some of the other Namekians. Piccolo and Dende were so different, and Kami different again

Would Piccolo go there, someday? It was his home planet, after all. Goku thought that if he’d learned his own home was still there, and knew where it was, he’d want to at least visit. 

“Anything I can do for you?” Goku still owed Piccolo big-time for the wish that brought Vegeta back. He hadn’t actually expected Piccolo to _do_ it, but he was _really_ glad that Piccolo had.

“You remember you need to keep that wish a secret, right?” Piccolo was grim. “No matter how much you may trust Vegeta and Raditz now, we can’t risk word of the Dragon Balls getting out.”

“I know.” Vegeta had been talking about Earth’s insignificance the other day, how that kept the planet safe. He probably wouldn’t say that anymore if the Dragon Balls were common knowledge.

Although Goku _hated_ that he was still lying to Vegeta about something that big. He knew pretty well how Vegeta felt about being lied to.

“Just _keep_ remembering that.” Piccolo turned, a swish of his cape, preparing to leave.

“Hey, Piccolo?” He paused, turned when Goku called. Goku gave a smile that felt forced and not enough. “Thanks again, really.”

Piccolo shook his head. “I don’t understand it, Goku. But I have enough respect for you after all these years that I wouldn’t leave you looking _broken_ like that, not when it was something possible to fix.”

“You’re a good friend,” Goku said without thinking, then laughed when Piccolo grimaced, cringing from the friendly term. “Sorry, sorry. You’re a good, uh,” 

He wasn’t quite sure what word fit, other than friend. Not really ‘rival’, anymore.

“You can also thank me by never saying anything like _that_ again,” Piccolo muttered, though Goku thought he hadn’t actually hated it that much.

“Gohan’ll be sad he missed catching you.” Yet another thing Goku owed Piccolo for, that year of Gohan’s training, and huh, he was really building up a tab here.

Piccolo shrugged. “He knows how to find me.” A pause that Goku carefully didn’t fill. “He’s happy? At that school place.”

“Yeah, he’s really enjoying it. I bet he’d love to tell you about it sometime.” Piccolo didn’t respond to Goku’s pushing, just made a small noise and walked away. Took flight in a swish of white from that cape. 

He was near as bad as Vegeta at accepting other people caring about him. 

Goku shook his head, stretched. Grinned at the blue sky.

* * *

“I’m home!” Gohan landed, rushed over for a hug, dropping his backpack haphazardly on the couch.

Goku wrapped his arms around his son. He was getting so _tall_. “Did you have a good day?”

Gohan smiled, but it looked a bit more hesitant than some days. “Yeah, but it’s nice to be home.”

Well that was a bit different, though not a bad thing. “Want to help me catch some fish?” They’d have a bit of time still before Vegeta got back.

“Yeah!” Gohan’s eyes lit up, and Goku realized that maybe he’d missed that bit of routine, less common now that sometimes it was Vegeta’s turn to get the fish. Or other meat. Vegeta was very much in favor of other meat. 

It was raining by the time they got back, but not the cold kind. Gohan laughed at his soaked clothes, looked carefree again, and Goku smiled. 

Vegeta wrinkled his nose at them from where he’d taken up residence on the couch, curled around a cup of hot chocolate. “You’re _dripping_.”

“It’s just water, Vegeta.” Goku dropped his soaked shirt next to his boots at the door. Gohan had gone very quiet. Before Goku quite figured out why, Gohan had darted to his bedroom, door clicking shut behind him.

Vegeta looked puzzled, head tipped towards where Gohan had vanished. Goku very deliberately did not voice the thought he’d finally had about how that complaint sounded just a little like something ChiChi might have said.

“Be right back,” he said instead, heading for dry clothes.

Gohan was still gloomy at dinner. Vegeta squinted at him. “Kakarot, nad’ke nat’tan kebu a suzmu.”

“Suz’mu netz,” Gohan said, sullen. Was this that teenager phase that people always made sound so ominous?

Goku didn’t respond. Vegeta raised an eyebrow at Gohan. Gohan _glared_. Then seemed to realize, grimaced, went back to his food.

“Gohan?” Goku wished he knew what was bothering his son so much. Was it something he could help with?

“Sorry, dad,” Gohan’s voice was soft, “just, school today was a little.”

Gohan normally loved school. “A little what?” Goku pushed. Vegeta was being very quiet, but Gohan’s eyes still flicked to him before deciding on an answer.

“I just felt a little out of place,” Gohan finally said, softly, “I missed all those months, and I can’t even tell anyone _why_. And it’s so hard, in sports, to look normal.”

Oh. Goku definitely could not help with any of that. 

“Why do you care what they think?” Vegeta asked, sounding annoyed.

That was… actually a fair question, though Goku wouldn’t have put it quite like that. Gohan was glaring again. “Not everyone hates other people on principle, you know.”

Huh. 

Vegeta laughed, and Gohan looked startled then relaxed a little. 

“Talk to your uncle,” Vegeta suggested, mostly still focused on his food, “he’s always been able to get along with most people.”

Gohan blinked. “Okay. Uh. Thanks?”

Vegeta shrugged, barely acknowledging Gohan’s response. But the tension was lifted, and the table felt normal again. 

Goku very carefully snuck his tail around Vegeta’s ankle, safely hidden from view by the table, squeezed slightly. Smiled when Vegeta returned the gesture.

* * *

Vegeta spun to land a kick against Goku’s ribs. Goku grunted, breath pushed out of him, lunged to retaliate with a punch.

Teeth sharp, Vegeta dodged, graceful in the air. He flung a ki blast towards Goku, large enough only to distract. Sure enough, the real attack was the following kick, impacting Goku’s stomach with enough force to fling him backwards.

“Come on, Kakarot!” Vegeta called, “you can do better than _that!_ ”

Goku grinned, launched a Kamehameha. Vegeta’s eyes widened, surprised at the intensity of the attack, then he smirked, met it with his own blast. Their power pushed together, a building glow, before exploding with a crackle of energy.

Vegeta pressed the attack again, knee aimed at Goku’s stomach. Goku darted out of the way, brought an elbow towards Vegeta’s back. Connected, slamming Vegeta to the ground. Grinned widely as Vegeta rebounded instantly, flying towards him in a blur of gold. Goku could see his smirk closing in, delighted as Goku was at the rapid, brutal dance of their spar.

Goku moved aside at the last minute, intending to take advantage of Vegeta’s open back as Vegeta overshot. But Vegeta smirked, shot out a hand to pin Goku’s wrist, twisted so that it was Vegeta who gained Goku’s back. 

Slipped an arm around Goku’s neck, cutting off his air. Purred in Goku’s ear, “yield, Kakarot.”

“I yield,” Goku smiled, let his hair fade to black, pressed closer to Vegeta, “you got me.”

“Do I now.” Vegeta’s breath puffed against Goku’s ear, his voice warm with amusement. 

“Mmm.” Goku twisted within Vegeta’s loosened hold, brought them chest to chest, looped his arms and tail around Vegeta’s waist, squeezing. Kissed him hard, just the edge of teeth.

Vegeta’s hands tangled in Goku’s hair, his tail warm squeezing around Goku’s waist. “Well, I suppose I could keep you.”

“You’d better,” Goku squeezed his tail around Vegeta in return, smiled as Vegeta shivered slightly, “I’m not about to lose the only one who can keep up with me.”


	35. Epilogue

Nappa stared at the impossible sight before him. A planet where none should be.

Yet there it was, red hued from the particulate-rich upper atmosphere, the lighting that had always pulled an echoing red from the Vegeta line’s hair.

Had Frieza lied? But no, Nappa had checked before. Had wanted to see the sight now filling him with dread.

Their planet was back, but _it couldn’t be_. What kind of sick trick was this, and who could it benefit?

He was glad he’d sent the cubs off to Earth. They cared too much, still, some childish strain preserved in them both, an ache for the home they’d been torn from. 

No, this was Nappa’s to investigate, to understand the truth of. After that, after he understood why someone would have wanted to give the appearance of _bringing back Vegeta_ , then he would return to Earth. 

Slowly, cautiously, he began his descent to the ghost of his homeworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! Except, well, I had a sequel idea while I was writing, so it’s not really as finished as I had originally planned!  
> I know I left poor Raditz without a boyfriend, but he will get an even cooler one in the sequel. Bulma might just find someone too.   
> The sequel is probably a long way off though.   
> I posted the last updates in a batch because the chapters get shorter and less even - enjoy!
> 
> And, WOW, first >100k fic finished! I’m very proud of this effort! I am not sure I will be writing anything this long again, but I hope you’ve all had as much fun with this epic slow burn adventure as I have. 
> 
> I’ve been so happy to have such wonderful readers throughout this long fic journey - such lovely comments on each chapter! So many people invested in following the story! For anyone worried that a comment is repetitive, or too short - I promise it isn’t. Repeat ideas are lovely, just yelling AAA is lovely! If you don’t have enough spoons or whatever to comment but are following along anyway you’re also lovely! If you are reading this months or years after I post, and leave a comment - I will still read it and it will still be lovely.
> 
> Until the next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on tumblr, come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vakaara


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